


The Guide by Jim Ellison

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, Episode Related, First Times, M/M, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 07:51:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg, things don't go as planned. Jim faces losing his guide at a time when he realizes he needs him the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Guide by Jim Ellison

## The Guide by Jim Ellison

by C. W. Post

I don't own them, but, judging by the way they've been shoving me around lately, I think they may own me!

Thanks, Ann. You made me do it!

* * *

I can feel Simon's glare practically singeing the hair on the back of my head. Even from this distance, through the slats of the blinds in his office windows and across the bullpen, it's there, scorching the skin on the nape of my neck. It was only a matter of time. I've been expecting this. Dreading it. It looks like my wait is over. The time is now. 

In a few minutes, I know he's going to be bellowing for me to step into his office. He's been watching me for the past few days, unspoken questions written all over his face. For some reason, he's held back, though. He hasn't voiced them. Only his eyes ask for answers that I am unable to give. 

I wish he'd leave it alone. Really, it's none of his business. As I think those words, I know that's unfair. Simon's been a good friend, to both me and Sandburg. He's let us push the envelope farther than anybody else ever would have. He's tried to understand things that neither my partner nor I do, really, even though he never wants to dig too deep. And, he's been there for us when we needed him the most. He's the one who thought up a way to keep Sandburg on board after...everything. 

No, Simon has every right to know what's going on. He's been more than patient; biding his time until one or the other of us fills him in voluntarily. Now that he's decided that's not going to happen, I know he'll be seeking information from me, since Blair's not here and not likely to return anytime soon, if ever. I just don't know what to tell him. Because _I_ don't know. I have no answers for him... or for me. 

"Ellison." There it is. The summons. Only I was wrong. He didn't bellow it. It's spoken softly, at least as softly as the deep, raw timbre of the captain's voice will allow. 

I shove the palms of my hands against the top of my desk and stand. There's no reason to act surprised, or even to grab one of the numerous folders that litter my desk. That's just as well. I haven't been reading them, in spite of all appearances. I wouldn't know anything about any case he could possibly be wanting to discuss with me, so there's no point in even offering that little charade. 

Besides, he doesn't want to go over a case with me. He wants to know about Sandburg. 

Turning slowly, I make my way to the open door where Simon is standing, cigar clenched tightly between his teeth. He steps back a little, then shuts the door when I am standing by his desk. 

"Have a seat, Jim," he urges in a tone that's almost foreign to him. I haven't heard him use it very much, but when I have it's been when something bad has gone down. Usually involving one of his men. Too often, that man was Sandburg. 

Lowering myself into the chair, I find it impossible to meet his eyes. This is going to be an uncomfortable conversation, and I'm not eager to get into it. I can't afford to alienate him...not as my captain, and not as my friend. At the same time, I'm not ready to discuss this with him. 

He's taken a seat behind his desk and is rolling the cigar between his fingers. His eyes are magnified behind the lenses of his bold glasses, and I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. A selfish man who has lost everything? One who's too foolish to know when he has it good, and then messes everything up and nearly destroys the best thing that's ever happened to him? Or does Simon simply see me, one of his detectives, a troubled friend, who's currently going through a rough time? Whatever he thinks he sees, he's wrong. He has no idea who I am, and frankly, neither do I. 

"What's going on, Jim?" 

An answer springs to my lips too quickly. "Nothing, Sir. Just trying to catch up on the current cases." I don't know why I even tried that. He wasn't buying it, and it would only serve to prolong this highly uncomfortable meeting. 

"Jim." This time his tone was sharper, telling me he wasn't going to put up with my attempts to ignore what he was really saying. If Sandburg were here, he'd be able to divert Simon's attention. He's an expert at that...and so many other things. 

But, then, if Sandburg were here, there'd be no need for this conversation to be taking place. 

"You know what I'm talking about, so cut the crap." Finally, I dared to look at him, and his face told me he'd not tolerate any nonsense from me. He wanted answers, and he wanted them now. "Tell me what's going on." 

I sighed, buying myself a little time and trying to relax. I could handle this. Give Simon some simple answers that would ease his mind, and then get back out to my desk until he'd had time to think about it and called me in again. Simon wasn't stupid. He wouldn't be put off for long, but whatever time I managed to get would be well worth the effort. 

"Nothing's going on, Simon. Everything's okay." I knew that was an outright lie, and figured Simon would know it, too. I was right. 

"You call this 'okay'?" he asked, his eyebrows scooting skyward. "Sandburg hasn't been in the station since the day we made him the offer to join the department, and he's made no effort to enroll in the academy. 

"I don't know about you, but to me, that says something's wrong, and I want to know about it." 

"Maybe you should talk to him then, Sir. I can't really speak for Sandburg." 

He shoved his cigar back in his mouth and moved it around with some serious determination. I didn't know if that meant he was ready to spit it out at me, or if he was biting back his words by chomping on it. Whatever it was, I knew my answer wouldn't fly. 

"Oh, really? You've always spoken for him in the past. Hell, he could be sitting in the same room with you, and you'd still answer for him. What's changed that all of a sudden?" Simon never was one to tread lightly. He called things as he saw them, and his perception of things was unerringly accurate. 

My eyes were scanning the room, looking for something to focus on, and if I were really lucky, something to zone on so I could remove myself from this very awkward discussion. Unfortunately, I had no luck. 

Simon was out of his chair and standing directly in front of me. "Jim. How is he? How's he handling things?" 

Even though I'd seen it before, it still always amazed me when Simon showed that rare, caring side of his. And almost every blasted time I'd witnessed it, it had been aimed at Sandburg. What was it about Blair that he could draw people in and wind himself around their hearts? I smiled sadly at the thought of my personable partner-a man who had the power to use people unmercifully thanks to his god-given charms and good looks, but who had such a sparkling clean soul and generous, giving nature that even the mere thought of doing that would have sickened him. 

My shoulders inched forward slightly in a shrug. There was no point in fighting this. I wouldn't be dismissed until Simon had been brought up to date. "I don't really know how he's doing." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"I can't read him." 

"Since when?" Simon questioned again, making it obvious he didn't believe a word of that. "You and Sandburg read each other like those psychics read tea leaves." 

Involuntarily, my head swayed from side to side and my eyelids closed. "Not anymore," I admitted shamefully, my head down. "Not now. Not since..." 

He waited. I'll give him that. He knew this was perhaps one of the hardest things I'd ever had to deal with. 

When I'd opened my eyes and lifted my head, he gently urged me to continue. "Since what, Jim? The press conference?" 

Slowly, reluctantly, I nodded. "Yeah. That damned press conference." My heart started doing its stuttering beat as it did every time I thought about that horrible scene I'd witnessed on television. I'd never be able to erase that memory from my mind, and I knew I had no right to. The look on Blair's face and the trembling of that beautiful voice as he'd made his false confession would be with me forever. How could I ever forget? 

"I knew it was hard for him," Simon muttered as he lowered himself to the corner of his desk. "But he seemed okay, that day he was here. When we showed him the badge, he seemed happy....he seemed to have moved past it." 

"I don't think he'd had time to really come to terms with what he'd done, Sir; with what it all meant." I couldn't sit there any longer, so I rose and began tracing a path around the office. "It took a few days, and then it hit him." 

Simon nodded and stared at his feet. "Delayed shock. It still wasn't real to him when he was here." He crammed the cigar back in his mouth, then almost immediately tossed it on the desk. "I should have seen it. Should have known it was too soon to expect him to make a commitment to us, to the department." 

There was nothing I could say to that. _I_ was the one who should have seen it. Should have been more attuned to my partner than I was. But, as had been my way so often during our years together, I hadn't paid attention. 

My thoughts were interrupted when Simon pushed on. "What's he doing?" My confused look must have gotten through to him, because he added, "I mean, he can't go to the university. He's not here. So, what's he doing?" 

"I don't know." 

Before I could elaborate further, he pounced. "What do you mean, you don't know? He's there, isn't he? He hasn't left the loft? He's not left town, has he?" Something told me that I didn't want to be in Simon's line of fire if the answer to that had been, 'Yes, Blair's gone'. People often accused me of being overly protective of my partner, but I didn't think I could hold a candle to my captain if that'd been the case. 

"No, he's here." I swallowed before tacking on my greatest fear. "But I don't know for how much longer. I think he's thinking about leaving, and it scares me." 

I heard Simon's breath stop in mid-inhalation. His eyes were huge and focused entirely on me. "You think he's planning to leave?" 

"I wouldn't be surprised." 

He took three steps and was practically in my face. "You can't let him do that. Not under these circumstances. He's in no shape to be traipsing around somewhere alone. He's got to stay here." 

"Don't you think I know that, Simon?!" I bit back any further words and turned down my anger. I knew I was directing it at the wrong source. It wasn't Simon I was mad at. 

He seemed to understand, as he always did. Other than Blair, Simon Banks knew me better than anybody. 

I guess he could tell when it was safe to proceed, because in a few minutes, he continued. "What are you going to do? " 

Finding myself at the window, I took a few seconds to ponder his question as I studied the skyline of our city, home to our tribe. It wasn't like I hadn't asked myself that same question countless times already. "To be honest with you, Simon, I don't know. I really don't think there's much I can do. When Blair makes up his mind-" 

"Damn it, Jim!" His words and volume were explosive, and I immediately reached for the mental dial to turn down my control, forgetting for the moment that I no longer had to worry about my senses. They'd abandoned me when Blair'd started to fall into his depression; when he'd begun referring to himself as a fraud. 

However, my sentinel shortcomings weren't high on my list of things to worry about right now. 

I realized Simon was still talking. "...you've got to talk him out of this." 

"I've tried," I assured him as I turned to face him. "He's not listening." 

Huffing himself up, I knew he found that impossible to believe. "Maybe you didn't say it quite right." 

"Simon..." 

"Hear me out, Jim." He took a seat again, but this time he chose a chair in front of his desk. I guess he was feeling more like a friend than a superior, and I appreciated that. I needed a friend right now. 

"I know you, Jim. You try to hide behind that rough exterior. You want the world to believe you're the original Iceman from the Polar Regions. That nothing gets to you. Nothing can touch you." 

He smiled at me a little, and that surprised me. It seemed out of place until he went ahead. "Except for one long-haired, overly energetic, extremely intelligent, remarkably loyal, highly independent young anthropologist named Blair Sandburg. HE got to you. Maybe it's this Sentinel/Guide thing, maybe it's not. I don't know, and honestly, right now, I don't care. 

"I _do_ care about the kid, though. And I know that your idea of talking and his are two entirely different things. This time, Jim, you have to meet him on his terms. You can't mumble through a half-assed apology and leave it at that." 

To say he was looking at me intently would be wrong. His eyes were boring right through me and I had no doubt he was actually watching my brain synapses as they processed this information. 

Disgustedly, I answered. "Simon, you know I'd do anything for him, but I can't change who I am. I can't suddenly become the great word master that he is. It just isn't gonna happen." 

His eyes did a slow dance over my face then, and I felt a sudden, inexplicable chill. "Then you'd better prepare yourself. Because I'm telling you, that's all that's going to work. Blair's hurt. He needs you now - just as much as he did when Lash had him, or when we fished him out of the fountain, or any of those other times. We've been lucky in the past. Always before, we got there in time. This time, if you're not even willing to make the effort-" 

I couldn't believe he would say those things to me. It was bad enough he'd bring up the most painful instances of our partnership - the times when Blair almost died, and it was my fault, every damn time - but that he'd accuse me of not even wanting to try... 

Gritting my teeth in warning, I growled his name. "Simonnn..." 

Naturally it didn't faze him. "Get it through your head, Ellison. Sandburg. Is. Going. To. Leave. Unless you get your ass back to the loft and do some pretty heavy thinking and explaining - and maybe even begging - the best friend you've ever had, or are ever going to have, is going to walk out that door without a backwards glance. 

"He's done a lot for you since you met him; he's put up with your shit - your anger, your silence, your attitude. I can't count the number of times I've seen you take him for granted, brush him off, totally ignore him, but he's always forgiven you and been willing to work around it. Even when you kicked him out, he came back. And now he's given up everything for you. He's got nothing left, Jim. At least, I'm betting he feels that way. 

"Can you stand here today and tell me that after all he's done for you, it's not worth risking your pride to give him back just a little of what you've taken?" 

His words stung. Everything he'd said was true. All of it. Blair had done everything for me, and how had I treated him? I'd been selfish and withdrawn. I'd tossed him out on the street, alone and unprotected. And Alex - she'd taken advantage of that and killed him. I felt the shame and fear wash over me again, as I knew it always would when I thought of that time. 

Yet, he'd always been there when I needed him. He'd helped me through so many things, not the least of which were my senses, and at what cost to himself? Even without this final offering of his life's work and career dream, hadn't he already paid a very high price? And for what? What had he ever gotten in return? A home? Yes, when I wasn't feeling territorial. A friend? Of course, but not one who was in any way equal to the friend Blair had been to me. 

The only real thing I'd ever given Blair was my heart, my love. And he didn't even know it. 

Simon was right. I had a lot of talking to do. 

I was out the door before it even occurred to me to tell Simon I was going home. 

* * *

In spite of the fact that I was alone in the cab of my truck on the way to Prospect, there was no lack of conversation. I spent the time reviewing everything that had happened; all that Blair had sacrificed. 

_'Why'd you do it, Chief? What were you thinking?'_

But the answer was shockingly clear. I knew why he'd held the press conference, and I was equally aware of what he'd been thinking. 

_'You did it for me.'_

Isn't that what he'd been doing since the first day we'd met? Sacrificing himself for me? He'd given up so much, but he never complained. 

I thought about all the time he'd spent at the station, helping me fill out reports. There wasn't any need for him to do that. I'm perfectly capable of doing my own paperwork, but it was one in a long line of ways I'd taken advantage of him. Every hour he'd spent working with me had been an hour he wasn't at the university teaching his own classes or doing research papers or studying for the ones he took. 

And there was the trip to Borneo that he'd turned down. I'd known what the offer meant to him. The chance to go on a dig with a man he'd respected for years had to have been a high point in his career, a rare honor. But, he'd decided not to go. Or had he? Had I forced him to stay here? 

I hadn't said anything, I know that. I remember that day as though it were yesterday. His eyes sparkled with excitement, and he practically radiated his happiness. Instead of sharing that with him, which is what I should have done, I forced myself to tell him he should go. At least, my words said that. I'm sure my expression told him otherwise. I made no effort to hide my feelings of emptiness and loss that accompanied the thought of him not being there for me. I'd selfishly seen it as another rejection. 

And Blair knew that. He had to. Because, even then, he knew me, and he could read my body language as easily as my written words. 

Had I stolen that from him, too? Was there no end to what I'd cost my best friend? 

_'But, damn it. He doesn't have to be so noble. He doesn't have to always put his wants and needs on the shelf!'_

But that's exactly what he does. And, I suspect he always has. After all, isn't that the way Naomi raised him? Did she ever consider what she was doing to him when she decided to pack up and drag him to yet another commune, another strange place? Did she ever ask her son what he wanted? I don't think so. 

And, when she dropped him off in college at the impressionable age of sixteen, was it just an easy out for her, or did he really want to go? 

_'Aww, Chief, what've we all done to you? Don't you know that what you want is important, too? That you matter a great deal in the whole scheme of things? Your dreams and wishes are just as important as anybody else's.'_

But how do I convince him of that? How do I tell him how sorry I am for all I've stolen from him; for all the times I totally and completely ignored what he was trying to tell me or failed to realize that he was in danger until it was almost too late. There were so many times: Brad Ventriss, David Lash, Alex Barnes... The list was endless. I was always sorry after the fact, but I never seemed to learn from my mistakes; I never changed. Still the same old selfish, stubborn Jim Ellison with the don't-mess-with-me attitude, and the whatever-you-do-don't-try-to-get-too-close-to-me demeanor. 

How could I have been that way with Blair? 

I had to make him understand what he meant to me. I had to find some way to take his pain away and bring the light back into his eyes. 

I might have been the one with the hyperactive senses, but Blair's the one who'd always felt things so deeply. 

My thoughts continued until I was standing in front of our door. It was time to put them to good use. It was time to face my partner. 

* * *

"Chief?" My hands were shaking as much as my voice. It took two attempts to get my jacket in its place on the hook. 

I couldn't remember ever feeling this nervous before. Nothing had ever struck me with the magnitude of what I faced tonight. I'd led men into battle, helped plan covert operations that were destined to change lives and alter conditions in foreign countries. I'd faced some of the worst excuses of mankind and brought them down, knowing at any moment the tables could turn and my life might end. I'd literally held men's lives in my hands and never given it a second thought. It was a job that had to be done, and I was content to do it. Never, though, had any of those lives been as precious or as dear to me as the one I now held, figuratively, in the palms of my hands. 

Nothing had even been remotely as important to me as what I knew I had to do here, tonight, for Blair....for me. Because if I didn't succeed, if I couldn't pull him back from the dark pit he'd been dwelling in for the last few weeks, then I knew my life was over. More importantly, his life would be over. And that was a conclusion that I would not tolerate or accept. It doesn't matter what happens to me. Blair is what's important. 

It's a shame it's taken me so damn long to understand that. 

The loft is bathed in darkness and I scan my vision over the darkened living room, searching for my partner. This is the only time I truly regret the loss of my senses. I want to be able to find him in the void, to be able to see him, or better yet...to zero in on his heartbeat. 

I used to do that all the time. Link his heartbeat with mine. I hadn't even realized I was doing that until one day I felt the warmth of his presence surround me and flow through me as though our bodies were joined in the most intimate way possible. It was a good feeling, an erotic feeling, and it was then I knew how deeply I loved him. 

But I hadn't told him. I never said a word. I kept that secret, along with so many others. 

So now here I stand in the cold, darkened room that had at one time been our warm, comfortable home, trying desperately to find some connection to the man who was my life. Hoping to rebuild what I had so carelessly and thoughtlessly torn down and thrown away. 

And I couldn't even tell if he was there. I had no clue as to his whereabouts, and that scared me even more. 

Willing my eyes to adjust to the lack of light, I finally saw him sitting on the couch, his shoulders slumped forward in defeat and despair. My heart ached for him and the pain he was suffering. 

"Blair," I breathed, overcome with relief that he was still with me, that he'd not packed up and abandoned me. Yet. 

He raised his head slightly and glanced in my direction. "Jim," he whispered and tried to offer a welcoming smile. I appreciated the effort, knowing what it must have cost him. 

For once in my life, I didn't know what to do. He was so small, so uncertain, and so very much my responsibility. I'd done this to him, and I had no idea how to make it better. 

As had happened so often in the past when I'd seen him vulnerable and afraid, I was overcome with an overwhelming desire to wrap him in my arms and hold him close, surrounding him with my love and steadfast determination to protect him from further harm. 

Instead, I took a few slow steps closer to him and reached out for the lamp. "Mind if I turn on a light? It's getting dark in here, Chief." If this were an ordinary evening at home for us, I know he would have pounced on that. He'd have questioned my need for artificial illumination in the room. 

I waited. He merely nodded, one slow downward and upward motion of his head. In that second before the light came on, I saw him swipe his palms across his cheeks. He'd been crying. Again. 

Settling myself beside him on the sofa - not nearly as close as I wanted to be, but closer than I feared he'd allow - I took the time to study his face. It was lined and shadowed with all the pain generated over these last horrid weeks. No longer did he have the effervescence, the spirit of life that defined him, and that I'd come to take for granted. In its place was a wounded, broken man who'd seen too much, taken on too much, given up too much, and suffered immeasurably. 

I had no idea how to start this. What was I going to say? How was I going to handle this? 

And most importantly, was I too late? Would it make any difference now? 

Some things never change, no matter the circumstances, but still he shocked me when he took the first step. "It's okay, Jim. Don't worry." 

"I can't help it," I told him. "I am worried. Things aren't okay." I took in a deep breath. "You're not okay." 

He didn't bother to deny it. That was another aspect of his personality change that had me worried out of my head. Blair, if he were himself, would never have let that pass. He'd have shot off the couch and been ricocheting around the room trying to analyze the problem, denying the truth in what I'd said. 

I guess we didn't need to dissect this situation. We both knew the problem. We simply hadn't discussed it, not really. Sure, we'd touched on it, several times. But now was the time to address it head on, and it was up to me to get it started. 

"Let me help you, Blair." It sounded like I was begging, and I guess in a way I was. "I can't stand this. Seeing you like this...knowing it's all my fault-" 

He pulled his head up slightly, but didn't look at me when he interrupted. "It's not your fault, Jim. It's mine. I did this." 

We'd been over this before, of course. This futile batting things around, trying to assuage each other's guilt, trying to come to terms with what had happened. The dialog never really changed, but I had to do my best this time to make him see; to take the blame from his shoulders and place it squarely on mine. 

"No," I quickly replied, "none of this is your fault." 

He went on as though I hadn't even spoken. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking; why I ever wrote your name..." His words faltered and I saw a tear trickle down his cheek. 

My hand was on his shoulder and I whispered his name. "Blair." I squeezed his shoulder gently, afraid that too much pressure would cause him to crumble at my fingertips. "No. It wasn't your fault. You didn't know. I know you would never have done anything like that." 

His curls flowed gently with the sideways swaying of his head, his unspoken denial to my words. I knew he wasn't going to say any more, and that's just as well. It was my turn. 

"It was Naomi's fault. And that asshole in New York. And the University." I swallowed, knowing it was time for me to come clean. "And, mostly, it was mine." 

Immediately, he was shaking his head again, rolling his eyes to the side to look at me. Before he could speak, I continued. 

"Yes, it was, Blair. I should never have said the things I did. I know you. I know you'd never sell yourself, or me, for fame or money. That's not you. You're an honest man, a good man, one who has so much integrity and decency it puts the rest of us to shame." 

He snorted derisively at that and tried to turn away. I didn't let him. I tightened my grip on his arm and pulled my other hand up to cup his cheek. Applying just a slight amount of pressure, I turned him so he had no choice but to face me. 

"Look at me, Blair." I stared into his face until his eyes met mine. "Listen to me. Hear what I'm saying. Believe me." 

Uncertainty was still the emotion I saw most clearly in his eyes, but I had his attention and that gave me hope. 

"I don't know why I doubted you. Why I said what I did." For a brief second, I looked away. "I was afraid, I guess. Afraid of what it meant; of what was happening." I moved my other hand so it, too, caressed a cheek. "Afraid of losing you." 

He pushed my hands away and moved farther away from me to huddle in the corner of the couch, his knees drawn up to his chest. I heard him mumble, "Not like that'd be any great loss." 

I shoved myself over, regaining the space he'd tried to open between us. My hands were on his arms, which were now cradling his head on his knees. "It would be, Blair. I don't even want to think about what it'd be like if you weren't in my life anymore. I just... I don't think I'd survive." 

He started rolling his head back and forth on his forearms, and my hand automatically crawled up to stroke his soft, dark hair. 

"God, Jim," he moaned. "How can you even say that, after what I've done?" 

I smiled. "It's because of what you've done that I can say that, Chief. It's how I feel." I cradled the back of his head with my right hand, and leaned in closer so my head nearly rested on his. "You've given me so much over the years, Blair. You've helped me more than anybody ever has before. You've always been there for me...trusting me, backing me up, just being there for me. It's like I told you at the hospital that day, after..." I still couldn't bring myself to say the words. It hadn't been a press conference. No. It'd been the public suicide of a proud and caring man. 

I cleared my throat and tried again. "I meant what I said then. You're the best partner I could ever have, and the best friend. 

"You've given everything for our partnership, our friendship. Much more than I deserve." 

His words were muffled, whether from his position or more tears, I don't know. "You didn't deserve to be embarrassed and humiliated. By me." 

"Aw, Blair. Don't you see?" My hand held the back of his neck firmly. I wasn't going to let him go. Not until he understood. "You didn't embarrass or humiliate me. It was uncomfortable, sure. And I didn't react very well. I know that. I blamed you, but I was wrong. It wasn't your fault. None of it was." 

He started rocking then, a slow, gentle back and forth motion. I felt him tremble, so I lowered my hand to rest on his back. 

"I tried," he whispered. "Tried to make it better. Tried to make them believe-" 

"I know, Buddy. I know." I couldn't take it anymore. I wrapped my arm around his shoulders and drew him closer to me. "I wish you hadn't. It cost you too much." 

Surprisingly, he didn't try to pull away from me as I'd expected. Instead, he unfolded his legs, scooted over, and nestled his head under my chin. Relieved, I hugged him even tighter. 

"I don't regret it." I could feel his warm, moist breath on my chest and the vibrations of his words floated through me like a gentle caress. 

"I do," I told him as my hand traced comforting patterns across his back. It alarmed me to realize how thin and frail he'd become, but I wasn't surprised. He'd not been eating much since this whole affair became public. He hadn't been sleeping, either. 

I wanted to sit here and savor this moment. It was the first time in weeks that Blair had allowed me to get this close to him, and I hated myself when I realized it was the first time I'd even tried to bridge the gap we'd created. I didn't want to spoil it. We both needed this. I'd always found comfort in Blair's touch, and I know it was the same for him. Being able to wrap my arms around him and feel his warmth was the greatest gift I'd ever been given. 

My cheek was resting on the top of his head, and I continued to rub my hand over his arm. I closed my eyes and thought about how much I cherished this man whose life had been so badly damaged by my actions and words. 

I thought about the days immediately following Blair's televised claim that his thesis was fraudulent. I'd been so caught up in my own selfish concerns that I'd not paid any attention to what was happening with him. Sure, when I'd heard his speech and seen the effect it was having on him, I suddenly knew the truth. I realized that he'd had no part in its becoming public knowledge, and I'd tried to make things better between us. Being the foolish, self-centered person that I am, I thought we could just move past it and let it die a slow death. I'd said a couple of nice things to him there at the hospital, and that was it. As far as I was concerned, it was over. 

I knew it was going to be a little rough for both of us, but we'd get through. 

What I hadn't known, but should have, was that he'd lost his job at Rainier. Well, actually, he got kicked out, which is much worse than simply losing his job. He'd been told to clean out his office and evacuate the premises. Immediately. If I'd given it half a thought, I would have known that would be the likely outcome. 

As if that weren't bad enough, he'd been subjected to harsh words in the press, hounded by reporters, and ridiculed by those members of the university who should have known better. Who should have known Blair. 

He'd lost the respect of his peers. Many people he'd considered friends were now refusing to even acknowledge him. 

He'd been on a downward spiral, and I'd stubbornly refused to see it. Just as Simon had, I assumed the offer to join the force was the answer to his problems. How shallow can I be? 

Blair is my Guide. He's my partner, my roommate, and my best friend. How could I not have seen what was happening to him? 

I don't know. I have no excuse. 

But now, as I feel him leaning into my embrace, seeking shelter and comfort in my arms, I know there is more going on here than what we'd talked about. So far, we'd only focused on what he thought he'd done to me. How he felt he'd betrayed me and broken that bond of trust that means so much to us both. Knowing Blair as I do, I have no doubt that is what he regrets the most. 

To me, nothing has changed between us. If anything, I trust him more now, after what he's done to protect me. I have to convince him of that. He has to understand that. 

But what I think is crippling him more is the personal and professional loss he's suffered. Where once he was an energetic, highly successful and respected teacher and student of anthropology, a scientist devoted to studying past cultures and his present-day sentinel, now, in his eyes, he is nothing. He's been shamed, exiled, and has nowhere to go. He must surely feel alone, abandoned, unloved. 

He couldn't be more wrong. He's not alone. I'll be there for him, no matter what. Because he's always been there for me. And, because I love him. More than my own life. I love him. 

* * *

My arm's asleep, I have a kink in my neck, my back is breaking, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to straighten my legs again. 

I've never been more comfortable in my life, and I have no plans to move anytime soon. 

The warm, solid mass of Blair huddled into my side, my arm resting around his shoulders while his head is snuggled under my chin fills me with a peace I've never known before. My love for him is all encompassing, and I want nothing more than to sit like this forever. 

He fell asleep a couple of hours ago, and as he eased himself into slumber, he leaned more heavily into me for the reassurance and security I know he needs, and for the support I'd failed to give him. It amazes and humbles me to know that even after all that's happened, he can still trust me so completely. 

I want him to sleep for as long as possible, knowing he's not been granted that brief respite from his pain very often in the past weeks, not since Naomi sailed into town and turned our lives upside down with one stroke of a computer key. 

He stirs a little and offers a sleepy moan. I wrap my arm more snuggly around him and draw him near as my lips brush a series of gentle kisses in his hair. I feel him shiver slightly, and in spite of my hope that it's in response to my touch, I know better. Blair is cold. 

I shift around and reach out blindly, my left arm flailing behind me, seeking the afghan that's tossed on the back of the couch. My fingers finally locate the soft, woven fiber and I tug it loose, preparing to drape it around my sleeping partner. It's then that I realize that I'm not the only one who's bound to be stiff and sore from a night spent in our unconventional position here on the couch. 

For the briefest of moments I consider waking him and helping him to bed. I can't do that. I won't deny myself the sheer pleasure of being this close to him, not when I know in my heart that he needs this, too. 

I consider my options. We can stay as we are, both paying the price tomorrow when we try to move aching joints...or.... maybe....yeah, I could probably turn him.... 

So, that's what I do. With a few smooth moves that I think my jaguar spirit guide would approve - if it was still speaking to me, and I have my doubts about that right now - I reposition Blair so he's lying down, his back firmly pressed against the couch back, leaving room for me. I remove my shoes and settle down beside him, pulling the blanket up to our chins and wrapping him in my arms once more. Unconsciously, he burrows in closer, and I feel a tingling sensation creep through me as I pull him near. 

If only it were this simple. I'd hold him forever if I thought it would make him better; that it would bring my Blair back to me. 

The next thing I know, the sun is peeking through the windows and we're facing another day. I'd dearly love some coffee, and before too much longer I know I'm going to have to go to the bathroom. Right now, though, I'm happy to stay where I am. 

His breathing changes and there's a slight tensing of his muscles. Blair is waking up. 

"Jim?" he whispers uncertainly. 

"Yeah, I'm here." My hand begins lightly stroking his arm. 

He turns his face up to look at me, his bleary eyes full of questions. 

"It's okay," I try to soothe. "We just fell asleep on the couch. That's all. Everything's okay." 

He pulls away from me then, and as much as I want to tug him back, I don't. I push the cover off me and sit up, stretching, just as though this were an everyday occurrence. 

He doesn't say anything else, and I don't either. Instead, I head for the john, and he goes to put on the coffee. 

* * *

After our showers, I sit with my cereal and he his bagel. Neither of us is eating, but we're going through the motions, stalling for time, and I think we both know it. 

"We need to talk about this, Chief." 

His eyes are listless and dull, the lines chiseled deeply into his face. Even his curls have lost their bounce. He manages to quirk an eyebrow at me when he questions, "You? You actually want to talk?" 

I see a part of him is still in there, buried deeply amidst the pain and shame he feels. I smile back at him and let my hand fall on top of his. 

"I think we need to. There's a lot I need to say to you, but I don't know if I can find the right words." 

He pulls his hand from under mine and stands up. "There's really nothing more to say, Jim. We've said it all." His untouched bagel goes directly into the garbage can. 

I stand, too, and walk to his side. "Maybe you just need to listen for a change. Let me try to sort out my thoughts...my feelings. We can't go on like this, Blair. It's killing us." 

"I know that." And he sounds so sad, so resigned to what he thinks has happened. "I just don't think we can fix this. I don't know how anymore." 

My hand is on his shoulder, and I turn him around to face me. "Could be it's not _your_ place to try to fix anything, Chief. Could be it's mine." I hold his gaze in a steady stare. He has to see how serious I am. 

With a shrug of his shoulders, he shakes his head and drags his eyes away. Thankfully, he doesn't try to walk away from me. Instead, he pats my hand and his lips turn upward in what has to be one of the saddest smiles I've ever seen. When he finally answers me, I'm shocked by what he says. 

"There's nothing for you to do, Jim. You can't fix something that wasn't your fault to begin with." 

He hasn't heard one word I've said to him in all this time! He still thinks he's the one to blame. 

"Damn it, Sandburg!" He winces with the volume of my words and staggers back from me. "Will you listen to me? If anybody's a victim in this whole pile of shit, it's you! Not me. You." 

I took several steps away from him and shoved my hands through my hair. God, what was I supposed to say? How could I cut to the chase here and tackle what was really going on? 

"You never meant for any of this to happen. You did your best to stop it. Turned Sid down repeatedly, refused the television interviews, walked out of the chancellor's office when they tried to congratulate you and force you to make a commitment to publish. 

"Shit, Blair - you turned down a chance at the Nobel Prize!" 

My voice had continued to rise with the passion I was feeling, and I tried to turn it down. Tried to use one of those imaginary dials Blair had invented for my sensory spikes. 

He didn't say anything. After a few seconds, I tried again. I managed to go on more quietly. 

"I can't tell you how that makes me feel. It was everything you'd ever dreamed of. It was the culmination of your life's work, and you turned your back on it. For me. You did that. 

"And when that didn't work, when they persisted and kept at you, offering more money, hounding you at every turn, you still stuck to your guns. You never even considered accepting their offers. You tried to put the brakes on, kept telling them no, but they wouldn't listen. Nobody did." _Especially me._

I turned back to look at him then, and I could see he was listening to every word. A part of him was shocked, I think, to realize that I knew all of that had gone on. I hadn't known at the time, of course. I hadn't given Blair the opportunity to tell me, not that I thought he would have. It was Naomi who told me, days later. After I'd calmed down, after Blair'd renounced his work. After it was too late. 

"As far as I'm concerned, the only person to blame here is that damned, unscrupulous publisher. He overstepped his bounds. He had no right, legally or morally, to release an excerpt from your dissertation without your permission. 

"Naomi was just being Naomi. She meant well. Good intentions. It just - well, it just backfired, that's all. 

"But, Sid..." I let my voice fade away as I thought about that egotistical blow-hard who'd tried to steamroll his way into Blair's life. And mine. 

My energy was nil, the adrenaline that'd been driving me onward in my overly prolific spiel having suddenly deserted me. I sagged into the nearest chair, which happened to be the one Blair normally claims at the table. 

"Shit," I mumbled. "None of that matters now, anyway. It's over. We can't go back and change it. As much as I'd like to, as willing as I am to do anything to make things better for you, I can't. I can't change the past, Blair." 

I heard him drag a chair beside me and sit down. He seemed reluctant, but his hand eventually made its way to my forearm. "Jim-" 

It wasn't right. He didn't need to say anything in response to what I'd been saying. There was so much more I needed to say, and suddenly, I was driven by the urge to say it. 

"Let me finish. I know this is really out of character for me, but I'm on a roll here, and I need to say these things, okay?" It was a cheap shot and I knew it. The one sure way to get my partner to shut up and listen to me is to make him think it's for my own good. If he thinks I need something, then he'll do his best to get it. 

His hand was still resting on my arm, so I dropped my hand on top of it, holding it in place. I needed to feel his closeness as I revealed my deepest feelings. 

"Blair, what I'm trying to say is that we can't look back anymore. We have to look ahead and see what's left, what we can salvage from this mess. 

"And I don't think you understand how scared I am." That got his attention. Jim Ellison does not admit to feeling fear. Even though I'd said almost the same thing last night, when he questioned what I meant, I knew he hadn't heard or didn't remember. 

"Scared of what, Jim?" 

"That it's over. That you'll want to end our partnership." I couldn't even begin to mention how much it petrified me to think of his ending our friendship, severing the connection I now knew I needed to keep my sanity, my life. The connection that had blossomed into the one sure love I'd ever known, or would ever know again. 

He seemed uncertain as to what to say, and that wasn't typical of Sandburg. 

"I need you, Blair." It was a simple sentence. One that should have been voiced long ago, but shamefully, had not. 

He inched his hand away from the pressure of mine and pushed himself to his feet. His movements were slow, unsteady, so unlike the vital, youthful moves that I'd been used to seeing...before. 

He asked one simple question, but it was one I'd come to dread in the past. Then, it meant he was gearing up for more testing with me. Something I nearly always drug my feet on, but nevertheless agreed to. Usually. This time, I wasn't sure what to make of it. 

"How are your senses?" 

I hoped he was asking that because he was coming back to me. That he was thinking as my guide again. I didn't think that was it, though. Something in the look on his face told me that the way I answered his inquiry would determine his course of action. 

If I tell him the truth, that my senses are so far off-line right now that I couldn't smell road kill unless I was standing right on top of it, then I know he'll stay with me. He'll work me through this until all systems are go. That's Sandburg. Even now, as wounded and desperately unhappy as he is, he'd put my problems ahead of his own. 

I don't have the right to do that to him, even though I know that if I lie to him and tell him everything is fine, then he's going to leave. He'll be out that door, gone from my life forever. And how will I survive? How can I live with the emptiness that will bring to my existence? 

But, this is not about Jim Ellison. This is about Blair Sandburg. What he needs. What he wants. What he has to do to rebuild his life, to the best of his ability. I can't trick him into staying. I can't do that to him - force him to make his decision based on my own weakness. 

This has to be for Blair. 

I hated this, but it had to be done. 

To my surprise, the lie slipped out easily. "They're okay. No major problems." 

He nodded briefly, and the look in his eyes told me I'd been right. He'd made his decision. 

"Good," he sighed, and I could hear his relief. He wandered around the kitchen for a while, then made his way to the balcony doors and slipped outside. 

I sat there a little longer, waiting...thinking. 

When he didn't come back in, I joined him. His shoulders were slumped, his hands resting on the railing as he stared downward, focusing on nothing. I draped my arm across his back and he shuffled over a step or so to lean in close to me. I closed my eyes and waited for what I knew was to come. It wasn't long. 

His sigh prefaced his announcement. "I need to get away." 

I nodded slightly, then had a sudden inspiration. "I could probably get some time off-" 

I felt him stiffen by my side, his head immediately shaking from side to side. "No." He sounded more sure than I'd heard him sound in weeks. "I think...it'd be better...if I...I went alone." 

He turned abruptly and stared at me, his eyes big and full of tears. He was begging me not to fight him on this, and as much as I wanted to, I knew I couldn't. If this is what Blair thought he had to do, then I couldn't make it hard for him. I'd done enough already. 

"How long?" I asked, not doing a very good job of hiding the dread I felt at hearing his answer. 

He looked away and said in a small voice, "I don't know." 

It was almost impossible to draw in another breath, so I stood there, wanting to say so much more. To beg him to stay with me. To tell him how much I loved him, and to promise him the moon if it meant he'd not go. 

But I couldn't. I don't think he could have handled that additional information right now. He had enough to deal with, and I couldn't dump that on him, too. He had every reason to hate me, and the fact that he didn't wasn't lost on me. Now wasn't the time to proclaim my newfound feelings for him. That'd have to be later, when he was stronger. 

When he came back. 

If he came back. 

"You'll come back, won't you?" 

His voice cracked. "I don't know." I saw a tear fall from the corner of his eye. "I want to. You. Cascade. Everything. This is home. The first one I've ever really had... 

"But things are so different now. I just don't know...." 

I couldn't help it. I grabbed his shoulders and pulled him roughly to my chest. He didn't fight me. Instead, his arms wrapped around my waist and we stood there, clinging to the tattered remains of our friendship. 

* * *

The dreams are always the same. We're in the truck, laughing and sharing some inside joke. The feeling of closeness surrounds us, and I bask in the warmth of his companionship. His eyes are bright and sparkling with good humor and affection. Affection that he feels for me. We're happy as we drive along, and I reach out to touch him fondly on his shoulder. His musical laughter fills the cab of the truck and I realize there's no sound on earth that equals it. It brings a feeling of such deep contentment and belonging to my heart. 

And then that image is gone, yanked away and replaced by scenes I'd lived but never wanted to visit again. It's as though I'm floating in the distance, watching the drama unfold. Blair is standing on the hood of a police car, a gun wavering in his unsteady hand. I hear his voice, filled with fear, and watch as I, in slow motion, advance on him. I can't see him, he's enveloped in a golden haze, but I can sense his terror. And even with all he's going through, he somehow finds it within himself to trust me. Nothing else was filtering through the drug-induced hallucination-only my voice. A voice he had no doubt would help him; would make everything all right. He hands me the gun and when his feet touch the concrete floor, his knees buckle and I gently lower him to the ground. 

Then, as he slips into unconsciousness in my arms, I look down at his face and suddenly we've been transported to another time and place. He's soaking wet, lying limp against my chest. His lips are blue, he's ice cold, and I realize in that moment that he's not breathing. His heart is silent and I know that I've lost him for good. Blair is dead, and I know with certainty that I must soon follow. For without Blair Sandburg there can be no Jim Ellison. 

The emptiness, the unrelenting pain that fills me is nothing like I've ever known before. I can't catch my breath and there's a tightness in my chest that will not ease. I'm sick to my stomach and sweating from every pore in my body. I want to die, but even that welcome darkness is denied me. 

Over and over, the haunting images pummel my brain. 

That's why I haven't been to my own bed in days. Weeks. I can't stand the thought of suffering through those horrid dreams again. Instead, I recline on Blair's bed, or I settle on the couch and nap until the terrifying nightmares return....and they always return. 

But the visions I have during my waking hours are just as bad, if not worse. I imagine Blair here, with me, in our home. I can see his expression as he gazes at me, his eyes full of trust and friendship, maybe even something more. 

And then, that, too, changes. I see him as he was when I last saw him. A tired, broken man whose dreams have been demolished, courtesy of the one person he'd opened himself up to and ever really counted on. 

So I spend my time doing absolutely nothing. Three weeks ago Simon saddled me to a desk. At the time, I refused to accept the fact that I was no longer doing my job. I thought he'd done it out of anger. He'd been furious when I told him Blair was gone. He blamed me, saying I should have stopped him. That Blair was my responsibility, and that everything that had happened to him could have been avoided if only I'd talked to him, been open and honest with him. 

Eventually, he calmed down and admitted that Blair's departure was inevitable, and that there was nothing anyone could have done to dissuade him. 

Two weeks ago, Simon forced me to take an extended leave. That didn't bother me. Nothing matters anymore. I wander around the loft, feeling Blair's presence, and the cold emptiness of his absence, everywhere I turn. The television hasn't been turned on since he left. I have no idea what's going on in the outside world, and I don't care. 

Instead, I concentrate on what I've done. I worry about Blair and wonder where he is. I think I could handle this better if I only knew he was all right. He's called a couple of times, but I didn't ask his location, knowing if he wanted me to know, he'd tell me. He didn't offer any information. Our conversations were brief and stilted, to say the least. I had the feeling his calls were perfunctory. Token calls that allowed the guide in him to check on his sentinel; to merely touch base. I never told him my senses were gone. That was the last thing he needed to hear. He didn't sound like himself, so I know he's not found the inner peace he was seeking. 

What if he's sick? Even in the best of times, Sandburg never took care of himself. He pushed himself too hard; forgetting to eat and getting by on very little sleep at times. I know he has no money and is probably living out of his car. There'd be nobody to take care of him. 

Or, what if he's hurt? Would he seek medical attention? Would someone help him? 

Then the absurdity of those thoughts sinks in. Who was supposed to take care of him here? Me. And look at what a lousy job I'd done of that. 

My hand inches ever closer to the gun that is resting by my side on the sofa. I stare into the flames that are dying in the fireplace and can't help thinking how symbolic that is of our relationship. I'm the fire and Blair's the wood. I've taken everything he had to offer, and now all that's left is a pile of ash and dying embers. 

I can't go on without him. I'd suspected that all along, but now there's no doubt. I feel myself fading away. Partly, it's because of the bond we share as Sentinel and Guide. I know that. But, mostly, I'm certain, it's due to our friendship....the love I feel for the man that is Blair Sandburg. I'm growing weaker and weaker, my ties to this world are loosening and it won't be long before the tethers let go and I'm drifting - alone and unaware. 

The heavy, cold metal is in my hand. My finger has wrapped itself comfortably around the trigger, and my eyes drift down to my lap where my ticket to oblivion now lays, beckoning. It's the only way out. I can end my suffering in one fleeting microsecond. I'm ready to administer the punishment that fits my crime. I've taken Blair's life, and now it's time to take mine. 

Slowly, methodically, I lift the gun. 

"Jim." 

Even Simon's voice fails to shake me. I've no idea how long he's been here, or how he managed to get in. It doesn't matter. 

"Jim," he says more forcefully. Even though his voice is tinged with fear, he manages to retain that air of authority that is so characteristic of him. "Put it down." 

Something inside of me recognizes his tone. My hand wavers involuntarily as my military training kicks in. He is my superior officer, and I start to obey. His large, dark hand reaches out, but at the last minute, I pull away. He has no business here. This is my mission, and I am in charge. 

My voice is solemn but steady when I speak. "Go away, Simon. This is my call." 

He exhales deeply. "So, this is what it comes down to, huh, Jim? Sandburg leaves for a few weeks, and you're ready to eat a bullet." 

There's no need for me to respond. It's not open for debate. The decision is mine, and mine alone. 

His eyes are on me; I can feel his unrelenting glare. Unwillingly, I shift my head enough to catch his disgusted frown just as he turns and shakes his head. I wait. 

An extremely heavy silence falls upon us until he stomps over to Blair's room. Roughly, he flings open the French doors and strides inside as though he owns that space. 

My anger flares. He has no right to trespass into Sandburg's room. In no time, I find myself trailing after him. We both stand there wordlessly until he waves his arms around and begins to speak. 

"Looks to me like Sandburg left most of his things. His books, his journals, those ungodly masks....even his laptop. Why do you think he did that, Jim?" 

I wasn't about to play any games with him. So, instead of falling into the trap he was setting, I simply stared at him. 

"Tell you what I think," he went on. "I think he's planning on coming back. Otherwise he'd have taken these things with him or put them in storage." 

In spite of my resolve to ignore any bones he might throw my way, I found myself answering. "None of these things mean anything to him anymore. I took everything of value away from him." Shame washed through me, more intensely than ever before. It hurt admitting the truth to him. 

Nodding, he turned around and headed for the door. "Oh, I see. You've decided that, have you?" 

Lowering himself into the chair closest to the balcony doors, he gazes up at me. I'd followed him to the living room but remained standing behind the couch. This wasn't going to be a friendly chat. There was nothing he could say that would change my mind, and he needed to understand that. 

Then, he needed to leave. 

A cigar was withdrawn from an inside coat pocket and was immediately being petted by his long, slender fingers. He drew it slowly beneath his nose, obviously enjoying its aroma. This totally carefree act of his was getting to me, and my jaws clenched in simmering anger. 

"I'll tell you, Jim, I never thought I'd see the day..." His words ground to a leisurely halt as the cigar came to rest between his lips. He chewed on it for a while, then seemed to decide it was time to continue with whatever he had to say. "Nope. Never thought I'd see the day that you gave up on Sandburg." 

Somehow, he managed to look smug with those final words, and it sent my temper off the scale. How could he say a thing like that? He knows me, and he knows exactly how I feel about Blair. Well, he thinks he does. He doesn't have the full picture. There's no way he can understand the true depth of my feelings. 

My anger took control and I broke my vow of silence. "I'm not giving up on Blair. I'd never do that! You know better than that, and I can't imagine why you'd even suggest it." 

He pulled the cigar from his mouth and studied it thoughtfully. Then, his eyes lazily drifted upward until they fastened on my face. His voice was deep, certain. "Of course you are. You think he can't deal with this. That he's too weak." 

"He's not weak, Simon. He's the strongest, bravest man I've ever known." 

He seemed to consider that as he continued looking at me, then let his eyes roam down to the gun still held firmly by my side. "Then what's all this about, Ellison?" Once more, I found myself on the receiving end of his all too familiar glare. 

There was no way I could explain myself or what I intended to do. I didn't want to, anyway. I didn't even try. 

He chuckled softly, annoying me even more. When he spoke, he added confusion to my barely controlled rage. 

"You think this is the first time Sandburg's ever been through a tight spot? That he can't possibly handle this on his own?" His wide-eyed expression hinted that he knew more than he was admitting. 

"What are you talking about, Simon? Of course I know he's no stranger to adversity. I've been with him for four years. I've seen what he's been through." 

"I know that, Jim. But I'm not talking about the scuffles and problems he's had to deal with since he's been here. I mean before. When he was on his own." His eyebrows rose a little at that, and I wondered what he was getting at. 

"I don't know what you mean." It was a simple thing to admit, but it hurt to think that Simon might know something about Blair that I didn't. "Is there something you're not telling me? Something about Blair's past that I don't know?" 

I couldn't imagine that Blair had shared some past hurt with Simon and not me. It just didn't seem possible. It had taken me years to finally get a handle on exactly what made my partner tick; to really know the man hidden behind the image he'd perfected. Our friendship had grown into one based on trust and confidentiality. I knew my partner as well as he knew me. As he'd been studying me, I discovered I'd been studying him. I felt as though I could write my own dissertation on him. If Blair were going to confide in anyone, I knew it would have been me. 

At least, I thought it would have been. Maybe I was kidding myself. 

Despite my pride, I had to ask. "He told you? Things about his past?" 

It didn't take Simon long to catch on. He knows me pretty well. "No. Of course not. He wouldn't tell me anything you didn't already know. You know that as well as I do." 

"Then how-" 

"Jim," he interrupted, sounding as though I should expect his answer. "How do you think I'd know?" 

He waited, assuming I'd figure it out on my own, I guess. If that's what he thought, he was dead wrong. I didn't have a clue where he was headed. 

"Think about it, Jim. Do you really think I'd have let him ride along with you as an observer without having him checked out? 

"Come on, you know me better than that. Besides it's SOP to run a thorough background check on anybody who's going to work with or for us. I wasn't going to make an exception just on your say-so." 

At first, my temper flared. How dare he doubt Blair! And, he should have trusted me. 

But, as I thought about it, I knew I'd not been in the best of shape at the time. My judgment was hardly sound back then, and I wasn't in the healthiest frame of mind, thanks to my recently awakening senses. Only a couple of days before I'd dragged Sandburg into Simon's office, I'd been ready to chuck it all. 

And, if I were to be honest about it, Blair wasn't your typical police observer. He wasn't your typical anything. Blair was - and is - a man who marches to his own very different, primal drum. 

I couldn't fault Simon for his vigilance. So instead of calling him on the carpet for it, I got to the heart of the matter. 

"What did you find out?" Honestly, I had no idea. I wasn't even sure I wanted to know. The thought of Blair being in trouble or pain was unthinkable, even if it had been years ago when I hadn't known him. That didn't ease my worry. 

He shook his head and stood. "I can't tell you that. You know it's confidential. Besides, even if it wasn't, I wouldn't do it. If Blair wants you to know, then he'll tell you himself. 

"All I'm saying," and with this he smiled sadly, "is that Blair's been through some bad times in his past. And he's always made it through. Hell, the kid's like a beach ball. He bounces back from anything. And he will this time, too." 

Blair is like a beach ball? At first I found that highly insulting. As I thought about it though, I could see the analogy was a good one. He did bounce back. He has as long as I've known him, anyway. It might take some time, but he always managed to get past whatever stood in his way. 

That wasn't all. He was bright and colorful. Just his presence in a room brought happiness and joy. He was always in motion, both physically and mentally. I swear his mind can process anything, and he retains everything he's ever learned. It constantly amazes me how he can apply some arcane knowledge to a current case or situation and be ready with a valid, workable solution to just about any problem that comes our way. 

I felt my lips curl upward as I envisioned my partner as that rejuvenating sphere. Until an unbidden image flashed into my brain. I couldn't shake it, and before I realized I'd spoken, the words were out. 

"Beach balls get washed out to sea, too, Simon. Where they deflate and disintegrate." 

Sometime during my musing, he'd wandered back over to the chair and settled himself comfortably. He'd been watching me intently, probably realizing what I was doing. The look on his face softened. "That's not going to happen this time. Not to him, Jim. Not as long as he has you to come home to." 

He knows me too well to miss the confused look I was sporting. He shoved himself out of the chair and came to stand by my side. One hand rested lightly on my shoulder while the other gently withdrew the gun from my grasp. 

"When - not _if_ , Jim - _when_ he comes back, you have to be here for him. He's battered and bruised right now. I know that. 

"I think we both know what would happen to him if you blew your brains out." The pressure on my shoulder intensified and he shook me enough that my head snapped back and forth. If this was his way of shaking some sense into me, it was working. Of course I knew what Blair would feel if he came back and was told I was dead. By my own hand. 

What had I been thinking? I'd already hurt him enough. 

Seeming to feel the need to add one more bit of kindling to the fire, Simon added softly, "I don't want to be the one who has to deliver that news to him and shatter his world. Not after all he's already been through. Don't ask me to do that." 

And with that, he let me loose. Slowly, he walked into the kitchen, dropped my service revolver onto the table, and left the apartment without another word. 

As always, Simon knew how to make his point. He knew he'd said enough. 

I remained standing there for a long time. His words echoing through this lonely, empty loft I used to call home. A shudder finally worked its way through me as the truth of his words settled on my soul. 

I would wait forever if that's what it took. As long as there was a chance, no matter how slim, that Blair might return to me, I'd hang on. I owed him that much. I loved him that much. No matter how hard it was for me, I'd be here.....waiting. 

"Thanks, Simon," I whispered to myself. He'd given me hope. In his wisdom, Simon had known that was all I needed. If he hadn't, he'd never have left the loaded gun anywhere near me. 

Just the thought of Blair's reaction to the news of my suicide was more than I could bear. 

I collapsed on the sofa, exhausted, yet relieved. I'd turned a corner here tonight, and hopefully, no matter where he was, Blair would feel the change. That somehow, he'd know and draw his own strength from mine. This small step in my recovery just might be transmitted to him via that strange, psychic link we'd sometimes shared in the past. 

Even if it didn't, it couldn't hurt. 

Without thinking about it, I picked up the remote and turned on the TV. 

* * *

Finally. After what had to have been an eternity and two lifetimes later, it was over. The Sentinel part of me knew the exact moment when Blair drove past the city limits sign. It took the mortal man a bit longer. No surprise there. 

I won't say that the days and nights following Simon's timely visit were any easier than before. I still couldn't function. I roamed the loft in constant search of something... someone. In constant search of Blair and any trace of him that might still linger. But I never felt the urge to end my life again. Simon was right. That would have been the ultimate betrayal of my partner, and no matter what, I wasn't willing to do that to him. Like I've said before, I've already done enough. 

As had become my habit, I was sitting in Blair's room. On his bed. My arms wrapped around his pillow and my face buried in its softness. None of the earthy, sweet fragrances of the man himself remained, but still it offered a modicum of comfort. I was beyond tears; they'd all been shed. All that was left of me was an empty shell, filled with memories and countless regrets. 

It'd been so long since I'd felt anything that at first I didn't understand what was happening. The hair on my arms bristled, and I felt a shiver wash over me. I was suddenly bombarded with the night sounds of the city, the appliances in the building, the planes that soared through the sky miles above my head. My mouth, though suddenly dry, was filled with the tangy flavor of the toothpaste I'd used hours ago. Inhaling raggedly, I jerked to attention and wondered what the hell was happening. Was I finally losing my mind? In spite of my resolve to be here if - _when!_ \- Sandburg returned, had I failed him in that regard, too? 

Driven to my feet, I stumbled to the living room, the pillow still clutched securely in my arms. I took the steps that led me to the front door and stopped an arm's length away. What was I doing here? What did I expect? 

It occurred to me that my heart was bounding in my chest, my breath was caught in my throat. The fringes of my vision were laced with blackness, and I was sure I was going to pass out. Fleetingly, I considered this might be the zone to end all zones. For I knew that if I couldn't somehow control this, I would never awaken again. For some reason, that didn't really seem to bother me. What did it matter, anyway? 

And then I heard it. My ears zeroed in on the familiar cadence and my heart stuttered until it settled into the same beat. It was as if all of my bodily rhythms - breathing, pulse rate, heart - had finally found their tempo. I was no longer alone. Blair was home. 

I waited there by the door as I listened to his approaching footsteps, his heart strong and steady as he mounted the stairs. My cheeks ached with the grin that was slowly spreading my lips wide and I felt moisture trickling from my eyes. I felt alive again, and hope surged through me. 

Blair was home. 

His step faltered just outside the door, and I heard his heart rate quicken. Surely he had no doubts as to whether he was welcome. He had to know how much I wanted and needed him here with me. How much I loved him. 

But, no. He couldn't know that. I'd never told him. I only hoped I'd have the chance now. 

My hand reached out for the doorknob, eager to remove this final obstacle that stood between us. Just as I turned it, I could feel the heat of his hand coming through from the other side, and it flooded through me with such welcoming joy that I nearly lost my balance. 

The door stood open, and I let my eyes feast on the sight before me. My partner. My Guide. But most of all, my very dearest, most cherished friend. It was all I could do not to take him in my arms and pull him to me. I'd wanted that so badly, for so long, that it took all of my strength to merely stand there and wait. For some reason, I knew that the next move was up to Blair. 

As always, my Guide didn't hesitate. In that uncanny way that is strictly his, Blair took that step forward and I found myself engulfed in his strong and steady embrace. As much as I'd wanted this and needed it, it shocked me. I'd known for a long time now how I felt about him; that I wanted him in every emotional and physical way known to mankind. Somehow, I'd imagined that when we were finally reunited after this torturous separation, that it would be me offering the protection and support that I knew he needed. It would be only in my arms that Blair would feel safe and secure, and it would be offered with an unspoken promise that I would never let him go; never let him be in harm's way again. 

Imagine my surprise when that's not the way it was. For it was I who was the recipient of such overwhelming feelings of safety and unrestrictive protectiveness in his powerful arms. As much as I wanted to offer all of that, and more, to him, he was the one giving it willingly to me. 

I wrapped my arms around him in return and pulled him into the loft. Nuzzling his head with my cheek, I gasped out a few choking words. I don't know if they made any sense to him, but I sure as hell knew what I was saying. 

I heard the door shut, but I had no idea which one of us gave it a shove. It didn't matter. Blair was home. He was safe and in my arms. For now, that's all the reality I needed. 

His hands were rubbing soothing circles on my back and grasping my shoulders as he leaned in more closely to me. 

"Shhh, Jim," he whispered in that deep, resonant tone I'd come to crave. "It's okay. Everything's okay." 

I felt myself gulp in some air and let loose a long, deep sigh. For some reason, I couldn't let go of him long enough to step back and take a look at him. But I needed to. I had to see with my own eyes that Blair was really here, that he was all right. 

Shuddering, I found the strength to move my hands to his arms and give him a gentle shove back. I stared into his face and drank in the beauty of his features, not missing the tiredness etched into his eyes and the way he trembled a little. His clothes were wrinkled and he looked disheveled and weak. But he looked like he'd found what he'd been searching for, and that filled me with no small amount of dread. 

What if what he'd found didn't include me? What if he'd finally come to realize that I was the cause of all his pain, and he'd come back simply to tell me good-bye? 

His small hand reached out and traced my jaw line before he settled it to cup my cheek. There was a warm and tender smile gracing his lips, and his eyes had never held more compassion than I was seeing at this moment. 

Although I know he was looking at me that way in an attempt to offer me hope and comfort, I still dreaded his words. 

He wrapped his arms around my waist and settled into a deep hug again. I heard him sigh as he snuggled his cheek to my chest. 

I couldn't help it. My fingers immediately went to caress the back of his head and to tenderly ease their way through his tangled curls. God, how I loved this man. 

Holding him tightly to me, I kissed the top of his head and felt him settle even more snugly in my arms. There wasn't anything I could say. Really, there was no way any words could speak more clearly than I knew my body was. Blair would understand. He always did. 

Unfortunately, I couldn't be so sure that what I was reading from my partner's reactions was in reality what he was hoping to express. He's the one to correctly interpret subtle hints and long suppressed desires. Me? I need concrete proof. 

For all I knew, his tender caresses and hushed words were his ways of telling me he'd only come back to get his things before he moved on. He'd do anything he could to avoid hurting me. Unlike me. I'm not nearly so thoughtful. 

I decided to stay in his arms as long as he'd allow. There'd be time for the words later. So I tugged him even closer and wrapped myself around him. If he'd come here to tell me his decision regarding his future didn't include me, then I'd put it off as long as I could. I'd take what pleasure I could from holding him next to me, imprinting his body on mine, his scents on my brain, his essence in my heart. 

It was when I felt him shift in my arms and his warm, moist lips kiss my cheek that I began to allow myself some small degree of hope. I know I don't deserve him. But, maybe, just maybe, he'll be willing to give me another chance. 

"Welcome home, Chief," I whisper into the waves of hair curling around his ear. 

* * *

Blair'd been wrong. I'll have to tell him....sometime. It hasn't happened often in our years together. Not when it comes to something this important - these senses of mine that he says are a gift, but more often than not I've thought were a curse. Until Blair showed up and made my life bearable. Until he made me whole, and showed me what happiness truly is. 

No, it's not often he's called it wrong. And this new revelation will no doubt throw him for a loop. 

But, there's no way he could have known. No way I could have anticipated this, either. 

"Jim?" His voice is soft and low, the concern palpable. I can't answer him though. Instead, I simply sit here as I've been doing for the past I don't know how long. 

Somehow, we've ended up sitting on the couch. I don't remember moving from the doorway, so I suppose he must have led me over here. We're facing one another, our knees touching, and I have both of his hands wrapped in mine, held securely to my chest. I can feel his pulse thumping steadily against my thumbs and the smell that is wafting through my nostrils is pure maleness and strength and the goodness that is my Guide. I'm lost in the deep, dark blue of his eyes and the gentle apprehension that is painted so clearly upon his eager, young face. 

The warmth of his body is soothing my soul, and I know without a doubt that not only has Blair come home, but so have I. 

He leans closer to me and pulls one hand out of my clutch. I can't move, and I'm not even sure I'm breathing. His fingers find my face and he trails them ever so lightly from my temple down my cheek to my chin before he finally cradles the side of my head, his fingers splayed around my ear. A puff of breath is expelled when he once more calls my name as he tries to bring me back. 

"C'mon, Jim. Come back from wherever you are and talk to me. I need you here. With me." He's whispering, but something in his tone has changed. I sniff the air and realize there's a new aroma mixed in with the scents I've always associated with him. And it's one I've smelled far too often in the past. It's fear. 

I know he's afraid for me. He knows I've zoned, but he doesn't understand why. That's what I have to tell him; what he'd been wrong about. He's always said before that these little trips of mine were a result of my focusing too hard on one or another of my senses. This time, every single one of my senses has focused on one thing, one person - the key to my very being - the man who sits beside me now. 

He's torn his other hand free and lays it on my thigh, squeezing none too gently. The heat immediately seeps through the rough fabric of my jeans and brands me as his. As if I weren't already. 

I don't know how to pull myself back. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure I want to. As long as I stay here, like this, in a dazed and foggy state, I won't have to listen if he's set to tell me it's over. Perhaps I can hang onto him just a little longer this way. If nothing else I can at least savor these few brief minutes where I can fully appreciate everything that makes him so special to me. 

But that's not fair. Not to Blair. Not after everything else I've put him through. So I force my eyelids to close and draw in a shaky breath. It's never easy coming out of a zone, even with Blair's calming influence, but this one is even harder than usual. 

He wraps his arms around my shoulders and begins whispering encouragement directly into my ear. "That's it, Jim. Come on back. It's been too long, and I really can't take this. I need to know you're all right." 

Blair's worried about me? He wants to know if I'm all right? 

That does it. I can't have him worrying about me. 

A shudder works its way through me, and I startle back to alertness. He starts to pull away a little, but I stop that silly notion when I lean over and rest my head on his shoulder. 

"You okay?" he asks, his voice uneven. 

"Yeah," I sigh in return. "I'm fine. Now. Now that you're back. Now that you're home." 

He shifts backward a little, but frames my face with his hands. "Jim?" His eyes are open wide and filled with that look that tells me that no matter what he asks, I'll be open and honest with him. There's no way I can deny him anything when he looks at me like that. 

"You've been fine all along, haven't you? I mean...just because I left....uh, you were okay. Right?" He's holding his breath now, anxiously awaiting my confirmation of that. His hold tightens on my cheeks and his lips quiver slightly, as though he wants to say more but doesn't know what. 

As much as I want to, I can't tear my eyes from his. He wants honesty, and honesty is what he's going to get, regardless of my previous decision that he would never know what his absence did to me. 

Maybe I can wiggle my way around this, though. Perhaps he doesn't need to find out everything just yet. 

"I'm okay now, Blair. That's all that matters." That should put his mind at ease, shouldn't it? 

He's shaking his head and pulling away from me. His hands drop to his lap and he sits silently for a brief moment, never letting his gaze leave my eyes. He's reading me like one of his anthropology journals, and I know it. He's not going to let me shove this aside. 

"You've not been okay," he decides. "What? Was it your senses? Have they been giving you trouble?" 

"No," is my immediate reply. And it's true. How could something I'd no longer possessed have caused me any trouble? 

"Jim..." 

"It doesn't matter, Chief. Water over the dam. Forget it." 

"It _does_ matter," he confides as he shoves himself from the couch and leaves me feeling suddenly cold and alone. He's striding around the room, raking his fingers through his hair. "I let you down. Again." 

His last words are my undoing. "No!" and I spring to my feet, too, rushing to stand by his side. I turn him around and stare into his pain-filled eyes. "You did _not_ let me down." 

"I shouldn't have gone. I should have known..." 

It tumbled out of my mouth without any thought at all. "My senses were already gone before you left, Blair. There wasn't anything left for you to help me control." 

He stares at me, his eyes big and blue and gorgeous. His lips form the words, but my heart is pounding so loudly I almost miss them. "They what? You were already off-line, but you didn't _tell_ me?" 

I could see it was going to take some fast talking for me to set this right. "I didn't think you needed anything else to worry about. For once in my life I didn't do the selfish thing. I finally realized that there was something more important than me. And that's _you_ , Chief. You needed to get away, I knew that. I could see it. And I wasn't willing to risk hurting you any more. I couldn't ask you to sacrifice anything more than you already had." 

When he finally looks back up at me, I can see he's confused, bordering on pissed off. He takes in a few deep breaths while he's processing what I've said. I don't try to add anything else, thinking this is one of those times where the less said, the better. 

Finally he speaks. His words are low and I can see the fearful shudder as it works its way through him. "You could have been killed, Jim. When your senses aren't functional, you never know when they'll come back. They could spike...all at once...and you'd be..." His words trail off as he wraps his arms tightly around his midsection as though he's suddenly chilled. Then he repeats his first thought for good measure, adding volume to make sure I hear. "You could have been _killed_!" 

"Not likely," I admit. He waits, and I know I have to justify my statement. "Simon had me on desk duty shortly after you left." 

His sigh is one of great relief. "Thank you, Simon," he mutters under his breath. 

Once again, his piercing gaze is upon me. "So? You've been doing paperwork and riding the desk this whole time?" I know he found that hard to believe since he knows me so well. 

"Not exactly...." I don't offer any more. 

His right hand rolls through the air, insisting I continue. I choose to ignore it, knowing full well that my partner will force it out of me, but not wanting to give it up too easily. I don't know if it's more to protect him or me. He's going to feel responsible when he finds out I was unable to work, and I'm not exactly proud of my behavior. 

"Meaning?" 

With a shrug of my shoulders, I surrender. "Meaning that I've been on leave for the past few weeks." 

"On leave?" He shoves his hand through his hair one more time and wanders over to the balcony doors, giving himself time to let that sink in. It's not long before he faces me again and asks one simple question. "Why? Why did Simon put you on leave?" Those blue eyes are searching my face, begging for the truth. 

It's all I can do, so I give it to him. "I wasn't myself," I admit somewhat shamefully. "Without you here, I just...I couldn't....there didn't seem to be any point. Nothing mattered, Blair." 

Before I knew it, he'd walked back over to me and had taken my hands. "Oh, Jim, I'm sorry. I never thought..." He bowed his head. "I'm really sorry. I never meant to hurt you. Or to let you down." 

"You didn't, Blair!" I tuck my finger beneath his chin and pull his face back up to look at me. "You've never let me down. You never have, and you never will." 

He shook his head. "I wasn't here to guide you. That's my job." 

"No," I tell him forcefully, planting my hands firmly on his shoulders and bending down just enough to look him in the eyes. "That's _not_ your job. It's a sideline; a by-product of our friendship. It's not why I want you here; why I need you with me. Why I was such a mess that I wanted to..." Horrified by what I'd almost said, I shut the fuck up. God, what had I almost told him? That I'd come this close to putting a bullet through my head? No. I'll never tell him that. That would scare him more than any imagined terror. 

I tried to pull away but he jerked me back, his hands encircling my arms like tendrils on one of those huge, dangling jungle vines. "Why you wanted to do _what_ , Jim? What are you talking about? What were you going to do?" I don't think he took one breath during that brief interrogation. I know I didn't. 

And then, in the space of a split-second, I saw the realization dawn in his eyes. He knew. God damn it, he knew. 

I tried my hardest to misdirect him; to convince him that he was wrong in what he thought. "Nothing. It's not important now. It doesn't matter. You're back. It's over." At least, it would be, if he was planning on staying. 

"It _is_ important!" And with those shouted words he roughly drew me to him and held me tight. I could feel shivers running across his shoulders and through his entire frame. His breathing was irregular and ragged, and I was suddenly afraid that he might black out. 

"Blair?" I tried unsuccessfully to remove myself from his arms, just enough so that I could see his face. He wasn't about to budge. "It's okay. _I'm_ okay. Nothing happened." 

He answered in a shaky, broken whisper. "But it could have...." I felt warm moisture spreading across my shirt, onto my chest, where his cheek rested. He choked back a sob. "Jesus, Jim. What have I done?" 

Nobody had ever cared so much about me before. After Simon had drawn me a picture, I'd seen how Blair would react if he'd come home after the deed was done. I knew it would hit him hard. But this - I'd not anticipated this reaction from him over what I'd only thought to do. 

Trying to soothe him with my touch, I hugged him as tightly as I could and began to smooth my hand over his hair, all the while offering up words that I hoped would calm him down. 

It took a few minutes before his breathing settled into a more normal rhythm and the tremors eased. I felt him relax against me, and I, in turn, felt my own tension lessen. 

"How?" he wanted to know. I didn't see any reason to get into it. None of that was important now. 

"It doesn't matter," I repeated for what felt like the tenth time during this conversation. "Simon had a talk with me. I never thought about it again." 

"Oh," he whispered, his lips brushing against my chest. "God, Jim..." 

"Shh." I stopped him from continuing. "It's all over now. Don't worry about it. Just let it go." 

I could feel him nodding, and his errant curls tickled my chin. It caused an immediate smile to form on my lips. It was so good to have him in my arms and to know that, although I'd been the cause of so much pain for him, I'd also been able to ease his suffering somewhat. It didn't hurt that I also knew that he still cared what happened to me. 

I'd made it my lifetime goal to avoid emotional confrontations. That's why I was seldom any good at them. This one was without a doubt the most heart-wrenching I'd ever encountered. Which explains why I was drained....emotionally and physically. I didn't think I could stand there much longer, supporting Blair's weight as well as my own. So, I headed back over toward the couch, taking Sandburg right along with me. 

We settled down together, our arms still wrapped around one another. It was a little awkward, yeah, but I wasn't about to let him go. Apparently he felt the same. Lucky for me. 

After several minutes of quiet, he finally spoke. "I don't understand. If your senses were gone, why did you feel that way? What did it really matter if I was gone? I don't see why it hit you so hard." 

I felt my jaw slacken at his naivete. My precious friend, the man who is a certified genius and could so very easily qualify as a member of MENSA if he'd cared enough to even apply, couldn't understand his own worth, or my basic need for him. It was one of his most endearing qualities, and yet was as frustrating as hell. I was going to have to tell him - open up my heart and confess my feelings - in _words_ , of all things. 

"Oh, Blair," I whispered. "You really don't see it, do you?" 

His cheeks were still wet from the tears he'd shed only a few minutes ago, and as he turned his face upwards to stare questioningly into my eyes, my thumbs began to wipe the moisture away. "See what, Jim?" In spite of all the effort I know he put into that, his voice still trembled. 

"See that it's you, the man - the person - that I need. Not the Guide. Not the scientist. You." 

He blinked and swallowed hard. It wasn't often that I'd left my partner speechless, but that's apparently what I'd done this time, and I didn't like it. I could only hope that his silence wasn't a sign of rejection. That he was only trying to figure out what it was exactly that I meant. 

I took his smaller hand in mine. "Blair." Now I was the one who really didn't know what to say. Typical for me. I've spent forty plus years repressing everything from memories to feelings. How was I supposed to open up now and reveal how I felt about him? 

He was shaking his head, his face tilted downward so it was almost impossible for me to read his expression. That scared me. Usually, he's got such an open face, one that displays his emotions so clearly to anyone with half a brain who cares enough to try to read him. I guess I qualify for that, on both counts. I act like the only brain power I have is half gone and I do care to know what's going on in that mind of his. Maybe it hasn't always been that way, but right now, that's all that matters. By hiding his face, he was denying me that little burst of insight I so badly needed. 

"Blair..." I tried again. Somehow, I had to get this right. I had to find the words that would tell him what I needed so desperately for him to know. "Do you have any idea how empty this loft has been without you? How empty _I've_ been without you?" Surely that was a good way to start. 

"That was because your senses were gone, Jim, not because I was." Well, it didn't take the observer in him long to come to that ridiculous conclusion. 

"Ya think so, huh, Darwin?" That got a tiny, little smile from him. "If that's why, then tell me why my senses were already gone before you left." 

His hands left his lap and waved around in front of him for a little bit. It wasn't a very energetic gesture, but one I was very familiar with. He was thinking, trying to come up with some hypothesis for that. Little did he know, I already had it figured out. 

Finally, he gave up. "I don't know why, Jim." 

"I do," I told him proudly. That got his attention, and he was suddenly looking at me with such interest; the scientist in him was back on duty. "It's because I can't be a sentinel without you. Before you left...those weeks after everything fell apart for you...it was just so hard, Blair. You didn't know what to do, you couldn't concentrate. Even though you were still here physically, mentally you were hurt...confused and lost. And, as a result, so was I. I need you, Blair. In more ways than one." 

What a shock for him. Me, Jim Ellison, analyzing and theorizing on something that was deep...addressing and actually understanding something that was - for lack of a better word - _emotional_. Not to mention the fact that I was right, and we both knew it. 

"Don't you see, Blair?" I leaned over and pulled his face towards me. I stared deep into those ocean blue eyes as I confessed, "It's not just about your being my guide, it's about you being you. I need you in my life, not just so I can control these senses and continue being a Sentinel, but so I can continue being me....a better me than I've ever been before. You do that for me. You make me happy; you make me whole. Shit, sometimes I even like myself a little bit, because you do that for me, too." I swallowed hard as I found the strength to say the next part. Sucking in a deep breath, I went for it all. "I guess it's pretty simple, really." 

He batted those eyelids of his, the lashes heavy with fatigue but the curiosity got the best of him. I could tell that. His whole body screamed with exhaustion, but his voice was clear when he dared to ask, "What do you mean? How can any of this be simple?" 

My smile spread slowly across my face. "It's love, Blair, plain and simple." I wondered if I looked half as smug as I felt. 

Clearly, he was a little shocked. "Love?" he echoed, but for the first time I saw a tiny sparkle return to his eyes. 

"Yeah," I almost giggled. "Love. As in - I love you, Blair Sandburg." 

He said it again. "Love." Then he was smiling. Right at me. Like I'd just found a miracle cure for the world's deadliest disease. He licked his lips and his smile turned into a grin that lit the room. It lit a fire in my heart, anyway. "You love me?" 

"I sure do." I scooted over and wrapped both arms around him. I didn't meet with any resistance. Quite the contrary. He pulled himself closer and I felt his arms go around my neck as his cheek rested against mine. 

"God, Jim," he whispered, the warmth of his breath finding my ear, "I've wanted to hear you say that for so long." He pulled away from me and shifted in my arms. Before I could question his movement, his lips were almost on top of mine. "Can I kiss you?" he asked, almost as though he were asking for the impossible. 

"No," I answered, sounding breathless and needy even to my own ears. " _I'm_ going to kiss _you_." 

So I did. As our lips met, it seemed to me that everything stopped. The world was no longer revolving on its axis, normal daily activities ceased, nothing existed in the universe except for us. We were center stage and all of the spotlights were focused on us. 

His lips were warm, moist, pliant under mine. His mouth opened and I felt the magnetic pull of his tongue. It was the only invitation I needed. My own tongue scooted inside, almost wrapping itself around Blair's. Hungrily, he searched and explored my mouth, as I did the same to his. For the first time, I actually tasted this man that I'd loved for months, years. And for the first time, I felt that I was alive. I was a living, breathing human being, happily trapped in the confines of my lover's body and soul. It was a wonderful place to be. 

After several long, sensuous moments of enjoying our fist kiss, we pulled apart by silent, mutual agreement. I guess the need for oxygen will do that to a man. There were other needs we each had, and they were fairly obvious to us both. Even though our lips had detached - with love, I might add - our hands certainly hadn't stopped their inquisitive exploring. His on my chest and arms, mine roaming somewhat lower on his slender body. 

We just couldn't seem to get close enough. I pulled him onto my lap and sought out his lips again. It was even better than the first time. This time I knew what to expect; knew exactly what passion awaited me. I wasn't disappointed. 

I don't think Blair was, either, if the reaction in his jeans was any indication. He was getting hard, but I could tell he was having trouble keeping it up. One long look into his eyes confirmed my suspicions. He was bone tired. No wonder, after all he'd been through. 

I shifted our position slightly, just enough that his head rested on my shoulder, my chin and nose buried in his luxurious curls. We snuggled together, like two teenagers who'd just discovered the wonders of sex. In a way, I guess that wasn't too far off the way we did feel. I know I'd certainly never felt anything even remotely similar to what I was feeling now, with Blair. 

I kissed the top of his head while his fingers lazily stroked my chest. In spite of his efforts to stifle it, I heard a healthy yawn escape those slightly kiss-swollen lips of his. Chuckling a little, I suggested that he might want to go to bed....to get some sleep. 

"Don't think I can," he mumbled. 

"Why not?" Obviously, I was puzzled. 

His thumb jabbed weakly in the direction of the front door as he tiredly snorted, "Unless I'm mistaken, that's my pillow over there on the floor." 

"Oh." Shit. I'd forgotten about that. I decided not to even try to come up with anything to explain _that_. "Well, you could sleep upstairs. In my bed. With me." I really, really liked that idea. 

He didn't seem to find that suggestion too disagreeable, either. I felt his sleepy smile as the muscles in his cheek brushed across my chest. Was that a sentinel thing, or a Jim and Blair thing? Didn't have to think about that very long. I knew what it was. 

"Yeah, I could do that, I guess." He sounded like he was half asleep already. "Long's you don't mind." 

"I don't mind a bit," I informed him, hoping my eagerness was obvious to him. I'm pretty sure it was, because as he pulled himself off my lap, he kissed me again. Gently this time. 

"I'm glad," he told me, standing over me with his hand outstretched. I didn't hesitate. Simply latched onto that hand and followed him up the stairs. To our room. To our bed. 

* * *

He's been sound asleep for over ten hours now. I've spent the majority of that time lying next to him, his warm body pressed close to mine, my arm wrapped around him, letting him know with gestures rather than words how happy I am he's here with me. Right where he belongs. 

I guess I must have dozed a few times during the night, but mostly, I studied his face. Blair always has looked innocent and young when he's asleep, but this was the first time I'd ever really gotten to appreciate that fact. Before, the only times I'd been able to watch him sleep - without feeling self-conscious about it - have been when he'd been in the hospital. And those times, as far as I was concerned, had been far too many. Blair doesn't get hospitalized for minor, normal, everyday things. He hasn't, not since he's teamed up with me, anyway. No, as long as I've known him, his visits to the hospital have been for things that could very easily have claimed his tender, young life. I don't think I'll ever get over the fact that, on several occasions, I could have lost him; that if he weren't the strong, stubborn man that he is, he might have died any number of times. 

I know how lucky I am to have him in my life. I won't take him for granted. Never again. 

A couple hours ago, I got up. I guess nature doesn't realize, or even appreciate, the miracle I have in my bed. I put it off as long as I could, until finally, it was imperative that I answer nature's call. After planting another kiss on his forehead, I slipped out from under the covers with every intention of returning once I'd taken care of my business. Before I headed down the stairs, I cast a quick look back at my sleeping partner. He hadn't wasted any time. He'd already rolled himself over onto his stomach and had claimed most of my half of the bed. Looked like I wouldn't be returning anytime soon. 

Once I got downstairs, I decided to put the coffee on, then go ahead and take my shower. I was ready for some caffeine, and I suspected that Blair would want some, too, although I had no idea how much longer he was going to be asleep. Selfishly, I hoped he'd awaken soon. Realistically, I knew that he was worn out. These last weeks had been hard on him. I could only imagine what it'd been like for him after he left here. 

Usually, when I'm not going in to the station, I enjoy parking myself on the sofa with a hot cup of coffee and the morning paper. If the weather's agreeable, I take them both out to the balcony with me. 

This morning, I took my coffee upstairs. To heck with the paper. 

I settled on the floor beside the bed and began my Blair-watch all over again. 

I was about half finished with my coffee when he started to stir. It's funny. For a man who's so full of energy that he spends his days happily whirling from one project to the next, often multi-tasking along the way, he awakens slowly. A twitch of his nose, a fluttering of eyelids, the shifting of a hand, then a foot, until it all finally comes together and those glorious blue eyes open to meet the day. This morning, they meet mine. 

He smiles groggily at me, and I think my world is complete. What more could any man want? 

"Mornin', Chief." 

"Hey, Jim," he mumbles and closes his eyes, the smile still firmly in place. He stretches and yawns, then flips over onto his back, turning his head to face me once again. The look on his face is hard to interpret since he's still pretty much out of it, but I think he's a little surprised to find himself upstairs in my room, in my bed. His smile deepens and I can see he's remembering our conversation of last night. 

Sniffing deeply a couple of times, he asks, "Is that coffee I smell?" 

"Yep." I nod and take a noisy slurp, draining the cup. "Want some?" 

"Mmm-huh." The covers are tossed back and he makes a half-hearted attempt to push himself out of bed. He doesn't get very far. Instead he flops back down and sighs. I can't help it. I laugh. He looks like a slug, and a lazy one at that. 

"Let me," I offer as I uncurl my legs and start to get to my feet. 

"Naw." His hand waves me back to my seat on the floor. "I gotta go to the bathroom anyway. If I didn't, I don't think I'd leave this bed for about ten years." 

Somehow, the thought of having Blair in my bed for ten years doesn't sound at all bad. Might want to up that by about forty more years, though. 

I resume my efforts to stand, stopping midway to lean over him and give him the first of what I hope will be many good morning kisses. He kisses me back deeply, his eyes closed. I feel his hand brushing the back of my head, pulling me down closer so our lips are practically sealed together. Suddenly, his hand falls away and he turns his head to the side. 

"Blair?" 

"Sorry, Jim," he mutters, but he's smiling sheepishly at me. "Morning breath. And I know I stink. Haven't had a decent shower since.....well.....in a long time. Guess you already know that, though, huh? 

"Give me ten minutes. Let me take a shower and brush my teeth, then I'll meet you back here. Deal?" 

I grin down at him and nuzzle that place just beneath his ear. "You smell great to me, Chief. You smell like you." My hands are straddling his shoulders, and I kiss him again. One more tongue-swabbing kiss, and I assure him with certainty, "You taste great, too." 

His laughter rumbles from deep in his chest. "Oh, man, you are soooo far gone." 

"I told you last night. It's love, Chief. Plain and simple." 

Blair's eyes moisten at that, and he struggles to sit up. "God, Jim, how'd I get so lucky?" 

After all I've done to him, he still thinks he's the one that's blessed. What a jewel this man is! 

"I'm the lucky one." I kiss him once more, then yank gently on his arm. "Come on. Get up. Time's a'wastin'. You said something about meeting me back up here in ten minutes. I'm holding you to that, Chief. So get movin'." 

"Okay, okay," he grouches back teasingly. "I'm goin'. I'm goin'. Here I go, heading for the shower right now, man." 

And with that he bounds down the stairs with more energy than I expected to see. I'm smiling and shaking my head as I follow along behind - at a much slower, safer pace. 

I refill my cup and wander around the loft while I listen to him in the shower. He's humming some tribal song and thumping his feet in time to the beat he's hearing in his head. I can hear the water as it splashes on his skin and each swipe he makes with the soap. I'm sorely tempted to join him. It's all I can do to control that urge and force myself to remain out here. I know he'd welcome me; that I'd not be turned away. It's just that I want our first time to be right. I want us to take our time with each other, to fully enjoy what is to come. If I go to him now, then I know we wouldn't either one last long. As they say, "Patience is a virtue" and "Good things come to those who wait." I'm waiting. And Blair will be coming to me in....I check the clock...six minutes. 

When the shower shuts off, I add more to my cup and fill one for Blair. I plan on being ready when he meets me in our bed. 

* * *

I don't know whatever possessed me to take our coffee upstairs. The only stimulant I need in my bed is standing in the doorway, naked and breath-takingly beautiful in his maleness. Slowly, I devour him with my eyes, noting with pleasure that I'm not the only one aroused. His skin gleams with moisture from his shower, the dampened ends of his hair rest on his shoulders in tiny, tight ringlets, while his eyes practically smolder with the love he's offering me. 

He comes to me when I raise my arms and settles heavily on top. I wind my arms around his shoulders and sit up just enough to find his mouth. Our lips meet and the heat that is transferred from his body to mine is enough to ignite a forest fire. My tongue wraps itself around his, and I find myself thinking that I've never tasted anything more delectable than my handsome, passionate partner. 

And don't kid yourself, Blair is a _very_ passionate man. I've always known that about him. I saw it that very first day. In his tiny, cluttered storage room turned office, his exuberance burst forth as he unveiled the sentinel secrets to me. From that point on, I've witnessed the same enthusiasm day after day. I'd just never dreamed that I would be on the receiving end of it in such a personal, intimate way. Not that I'm complaining. 

His kiss deepened, although I hadn't thought that possible. He squirmed and wiggled his way down until he filled all of the indentations and gaps of my body. Through all of his contortions, his lips never left mine. His heart was pounding and his breathing was turning quickly into needy pants....much the same as mine. 

I moaned his name as he lowered his lips to my neck. I could feel his tongue lapping over the skin beneath my ear, his fingers ghosting over the fine hair on my chest. He slid off me then, anchoring himself to my side with a leg tossed over my thigh. 

He continued the exploration of my body with his mouth and fingers until I thought he must have awakened every raw nerve I had. I was tingling in places that had never been erogenous zones for me in the past, and, as much as I was eager to do my own exploring, I found myself paralyzed. I couldn't move, other than to bump my hips against him, straining for that release I knew was to come. 

"Patience, Jim," he mumbled, his mouth fastened to my left nipple. "I've got a lot of territory here to cover, and I don't want to miss an inch." His teeth tugged on that tiny nub and I felt myself swirling out of my mind. God, what he did to me! 

While one nipple was being laved, the other was the happy recipient of his fingers. He pinched and rolled it, applying just enough pressure to stimulate, but never enough to hurt. I lay there, enjoying the sensual onslaught. Before I knew it, he'd worked his way down to my navel and was pleasuring us both by running an index finger lightly around the circumference, while his tongue plunged in and out, mimicking that dance I knew we'd be doing together before this tune was over. Excited, I shifted my hips upward, and when I glanced downward, I was overcome by the intense look of love I saw on his face. That, perhaps even more than what he was doing to my body, sent my heart rate soaring. For in his eyes I could clearly see the same passion I was feeling. He loved me as much as I loved him. It was an overpowering revelation, and I lay there in awe that he deemed me worthy of his friendship, much less his love. 

I tried to find the words that would tell him how I felt; that I loved him with all that was within me. Words seemed so inadequate now. I wanted desperately to show him. 

"Blair," I moaned, my throat constricting with all the love I was feeling. "Slow down. Stop." In a way, I hated myself for saying that, for insisting he stop what he was doing. But I had to get his attention. I wanted equal time. And if I allowed him to continue for even a moment longer, I knew rational thought would abandon me and I'd be lost in the stratosphere, compliments of my partner's very talented lips and hands. 

"Mmm?" he mumbled, his tongue swiping the tip of my leaking erection. I don't think I've ever been more aroused, more aware of the person making love to me. It suddenly occurred to me that I'd never before been this conscious of my bedmate, not like I was now, with Blair. I had a history of performing automatically with my sexual partners, even my wife. 

My selfishness had not been restricted to less intimate moments, it seemed. This time was different. This time, I wanted Blair to experience what "I* was. I wanted to share every touch, every nuance, with him. 

Fleetingly, I thought perhaps that was because this was the first time I'd ever done it with a man. Even as I thought that, I knew it wasn't true. It wasn't the gender of the person who now lay partially atop me, it was the person himself. It was Blair. 

I reached out and rested my hands on his head, feeling every single hair that twined around my fingers. The touch of those soft, individual strands excited me and drove me deeper into the bliss I was feeling. "Blair." His name slid between my lips, smooth and velvety. Shifting my hands to cradle the sides of his head, I gently tugged him upward, away from my center and closer to my heart. He complied with my unspoken request, but his hand wrapped around me and pumped gently. 

Slowly, tenderly, I rolled him over, our bodies moving as one. He rested on his back, hands on my shoulders while I was now the one hovering above, my legs straddling his. Deep blue eyes gazed up at me, a tiny, expectant smile brushed his lips. My right hand automatically reached out to cup his cheek, my left rested on the bed, supporting most of my weight, beside his shoulder. 

I was overcome with something that was totally alien to me. Feelings of such deep love wafted through me that I felt dizzy and breathless with the realization. 

I don't know where the words came from. They startled me as much as they seemed to please Blair. For when I said them, his smile deepened and his eyes drifted shut. "I love you," I heard myself say in a voice that was hardly more than a whisper and shaking with honesty. Slowly, he nodded. 

"I know," was all he said, but the palms of his hands began to roam across my chest, telling me that he felt the same. 

I leaned over and kissed him. A tender, easy kiss that deepened and intensified in a matter of seconds. Both hands clutched my shoulders as he pulled me down until all of my weight rested on him. Arms and legs entwined around me and in my fog, I realized I couldn't have moved if I'd wanted to. He may be smaller, but he's one strong man. I wasn't about to fight him. I didn't want to move. Ever. 

With each breath I inhaled, I pulled more of him into my heart and soul. The uniqueness of my partner was personified in his scent. I'd come to love his smell, even before I realized I loved the person that he is. I sniffed deeply and was rewarded with a new aroma, one that I'd never encountered from him before, but one that delighted and excited me immensely. Blair was aroused - _sexually_ aroused. By me. And that sent my heart skyrocketing. In addition to the olfactory clues he was sending my way, I realized there was an unfamiliar warmth, a dampness, spreading across my abdomen. Closer inspection with my sentinel sense of touch revealed the source of that sensation. It was Blair's pre-ejaculate. 

His eyes were open once again, filled with love and trust and anticipation. It suddenly occurred to me that I had no idea how to proceed from here. I loved him. I wanted to show him. I needed to be close to him. But, how? What could I possibly do that would satisfy him? I mean, with a woman, that's pretty easy. Cut and dried, sort of. No questions, you just do it. But Blair wasn't a woman! He didn't come with the same equipment as one. His equipment was the same as mine. And how do you - - 

The more I thought, the more confused and frustrated I became. 

He must have read my mind, for suddenly, he grinned. "It's okay, Jim. We'll figure this out." 

"It's just....I don't.....I want...." I stammered, my usual inarticulate self. 

"Aw, shit, Blair." That wasn't exactly the most romantic thing I'd ever said in bed, but it was probably the most sincere. I was fucked. Which, come to think about it, didn't sound like such a bad idea. If only.... 

"Hey." He tugged me down to his chest again, laughing quietly in my ear. "We'll just do a little research, get some supplies and junk...you know? Not like this is something we can't figure out." 

The way his hand was inching down my back until it was caressing my left ass cheek told me he was well on his way to figuring this out. When one finger brushed down the crevice, I didn't have much doubt. Whatever he had in mind felt damn good to me, and I shivered. 

"Down, Boy," he instructed with a satisfied giggle, but I don't think he meant that literally. A part of me was very definitely _up_ , and it didn't take a doctoral candidate to notice that I wasn't the only one straining just a bit. 

His teeth latched onto my earlobe then, and sent me spiraling out of control. I wasn't going to last much longer, and judging by the quivering form in my arms, I didn't think I'd be taking this journey alone. I wanted to be sure about that, though, so I snaked my hand between us, which wasn't an easy task since we were practically cemented together with our sweat, the pre-come, and our enthusiastic, shared desire. 

As he was alternating biting and sucking on my earlobe, I rubbed his nipple and heard a sharp intake of breath. Yeah, I decided instantly, he was as turned on by that as I was. After rolling it around for a few minutes and tugging on the nipple ring attached to it, I shoved my hand lower until I found what I was looking for. His penis was huge and hot and dripping. I ground my pelvis down, shoving my dick down hard on top of the one I held captured in my hand. 

"JIIIIMMMM!" His unexpected cry was accompanied by an immediate finger shoved inside my rectum. It was one of the most startling and pleasant invasions my body had ever experienced, and I think I let out my own cry of passion, although I can't be sure. 

The pounding of our heartbeats was louder than any symphony, and much more welcome. Writhing on the bed, we tugged on each other and rolled over a couple of times. I don't know how we managed to avoid toppling onto the floor, but the fact that we didn't wasn't much of a concern to either of us. We were together, in a way we'd both longed for, and nothing was going to get in the way. 

The roar in my ears could be compared only to a train, barreling down the tracks, nonstop. I found myself on top of this heaving locomotive of heat and energy and unexploded sexual frenzy. I pumped my hips in the same rhythm Blair was shoving upward, our hands now suddenly joined between us, pumping one another's dicks. I knew I wasn't going to last much longer, and it was obvious that Blair was on the edge, too. 

One more little nudge and he'd be gone, me right beside him. I increased the pressure my hand was applying on his penis and rubbed harder, up and down, hard and fast in the motion I've employed on myself whenever the need arose. His moan was trembling and breathless; I could feel the muscles tensing in his back and legs as he shoved his head back deeper into the pillow. The look on his face was enough to signal me that he was on the verge. I rested my head on his shoulder and bit him, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to leave my mark. He shuddered and stiffened, his hips thrusting upward, pounding into my erection, as his fingers dug deep into my arms, and he let out a low, guttural moan of deep satisfaction. 

That was it. The moment of sheer ecstasy we'd both been searching for. His semen met mine on my chest and our hands were filled with the warm, sticky wetness of our love. Sated, he collapsed bonelessly beneath me, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession as he tried to draw in air. 

I wanted to watch him, to share _this_ with him, too. But I had no more energy and instead flopped down on top, careful not to crush him. Quivering arms once more wound around me as he pulled me close without saying a word. 

We lay there like that for several minutes until the world righted itself and we felt somewhat human again. Slowly, gingerly, I extracted myself from his weak embrace and settled down beside him. His eyes were still closed, but his breathing was back to its regular pattern, so I put my arm over his stomach and pulled him to me. He was warm and wet, and smelled gloriously of Blair and our recently spent passion. I kissed his cheek and told him once again how much I loved him. He smiled and opened his eyes. Turning his head, he reached over and trailed his fingers across my forehead and down my cheek. 

"I love you, too, Jim," he whispered in a deep, throaty voice. "Always have." And he kissed me. 

He sighed then and curled up against my chest. I rested my head on his, and let my fingers play with the wild curls that were springing out in every direction. 

I'd been given the most precious gift on earth, and I vowed never to do anything to change that. I knew somewhere, someone, had to have made a very serious mistake in allowing me to have his friendship, not to mention his love. I'd never do anything to jeopardize that. I promised right then and there to protect this man from all possible danger for the rest of my life. I'd keep him safe; love and cherish him for the rest of my days. 

I realize there are still things we need to work out. He hasn't said anything, but I know he's not going to become a cop. He's too good for that. Too kind and gentle. He knows I need him as my Guide, and he takes that much too seriously to consider letting me continue alone. We'll figure out something. We have to. If it means leaving Cascade, so be it. Nothing is more important to me than Blair, and I'm willing to do anything to keep him with me, to keep him happy. 

Shifting in my arms, wiggling a little closer, I hear his muffled, sleepy voice as he blindly tugs the covers up around us. "Don't worry about it now, Jim. We'll figure it out. I've got an idea I wanna run by you, but right now....can we just sorta sleep on it?" 

It doesn't surprise me. Not only does he know exactly what I'm thinking, but he's got a plan to solve the problem.... 

...Wait a minute.... What'd he just say? He's got a plan? 

"Blair?" I move to sit up, unconsciously jostling his head off my arm in the process. His eyes snap open and he glares at me for a moment until he comes more fully awake. 

Twisting around so I can look him squarely in the eye, I ask, "What plan? What are you thinking?" 

He closes his eyes and moans, "I wanna sleep now, man. It can wait 'til morning." 

"No it can't!" I instantly, and a bit too loudly, inform him. I pull the blanket down off his shoulders and lean over to kiss him, just below his ear. That should get the juices flowing. 

It does the trick. 

He yawns and rolls to his side so he can prop his head in his hand and stare at me. "OK, I can see I'm not gonna get any sleep this way, so how 'bout I just give you a thumbnail sketch for now?" 

My head is rapidly nodding its agreement, and my mind is suddenly on alert. Could it really be that Blair's thought of some way for us to stay together, to work together as partners? Even after all that's happened? 

God, I hope so. 

"C'mere." He pats the pillow and invites me to lay back down with him. I can't. I'm too keyed up right now, and I really want to concentrate on what he's going to say. I can't do that if I'm distracted. And, believe me, laying with Blair Sandburg is _very_ distracting. 

"Out with it, Chief. I'm dyin' here." 

"All right." He struggles to sit up, too, curling his legs under him, his hands already in motion when he captures my gaze and begins to explain. "Here's what I'm thinking. There's no reason why I have to be a cop, is there? I mean, you're okay with that, right? You won't be disappointed if I don't go to the academy?" 

Surely he knows how I feel about that. As much as I'd love for him to become my official partner, the cost is too high. I couldn't - I _won't_ \- ask that of him. Although I know he'd do it if I told him that's what I wanted, he'd never be happy. And I can't stand the thought of his living like that. 

"No, Chief, I won't be disappointed." I smiled at him, and knew he wasn't really surprised by my answer. "I know that's not the right thing for you. It's not who you are." 

He nodded and answered in a quiet tone. "Thanks, Jim." He pulled his eyes away from mine briefly and took a deep breath. 

I shoved myself over until I sat right in front of him, my knees layered on top of his. Slowly, he raised his head and looked into my eyes, taking my hands in his. 

"Tell me what you want to do," I said. 

"I want to go back to school. To Rainier." I know he was waiting for my reaction to that, and it didn't take long. 

"Rainier?" I was shocked, to say the least. "Why there? We could go to ..." 

"No," he told me emphatically. "I'm not running any more, Jim. I'm not allowing them to take anything else away from me. I didn't do anything wrong." 

My pride in him was overwhelming. I felt my heart swell with love and respect and admiration. Blair had more courage than most people ever gave him credit for. 

"Good for you, Chief. I'm proud of you." I could see how happy he was to hear me say that, and I made myself another promise. I vowed not only to protect and cherish him forever, but to also tell him frequently how much I admired him; to let him know what a fine and upstanding man I thought he was. I'd certainly never done that enough in the past. 

"So, you're going back to school. Gonna get your doctorate in anthropology after all?" 

"Nooo," he drew the word out, almost as though he was buying time before he put his thought to words. Inhaling deeply, he dropped the bomb. "I'm going to get my masters in psychology. That shouldn't take long, since I minored in it. Then, I'll work toward my doctorate in that field." 

"Oh." I was amazed. Really, that was a good compromise. It would still allow him to work in an area that he's interested in. He was comfortable with it, enjoyed it, and would do extremely well, I had no doubt. 

And he would get those three little letters after his name that he deserves and should have had by now. If he hadn't met me, he would have earned them already. 

However, I didn't see how that was going to allow him to continue to be with me on the job. 

"That's great, Chief. Really." In spite of my enthusiasm for him, I was disappointed for me. I guess it showed. 

He snickered a little. "Ah, but you're saying to yourself, 'That takes care of Blair, but what about _us_?' As in you, the Cop Sentinel, and me, the Cop Sentinel's Guide. Am I right?" 

Well, that sounded pretty selfish, when he put it that way. But, as usual he hit it right on the nose. "Yeah, I guess...." 

"No worries, Ellison. I've got it covered." He flashed a grin at me that I hadn't seen in months. I realized that it didn't matter one bit where I fit in the equation of his new career, just so I fit in the personal, private equation. That's all I really cared about. 

Before I could tell him about my unselfish decision, he revealed his master plan. 

"The department just might need another psychologist, don't you think? I can do basically what I've been doing all along, only still get my degree _and_ a paycheck." 

This was brilliant. It could work, too. He'd be great as the department shrink, and he'd already proven to be a skilled and knowledgeable profiler. Yes, this definitely had possibilities. 

"Yeah. Yeah, Blair. This is good." I leaned over and hugged him. We kissed for a long while and unwound our legs to lay side by side again, yanking the covers up to our chins. 

I thought about his plan. It sounded perfect. Except for the part about his going back to Rainier. I didn't like the thought of him facing those cretins again. 

Pulling him protectively closer to me, I rubbed his back. Knowing it would do no good to try to talk him out of it, I merely suggested, "If anybody gives you any trouble on campus -" 

He didn't let me finish. "I know, I know. All I gotta do is call, and you'll have all of Major Crimes there." 

"You betcha." 

He snorted at that, and I could just imagine the image he was picturing of us all rushing to his rescue, guns drawn. 

"Jim?" came a drowsy voice from my side. 

"Yeah?" 

"I love you." 

Coaxing his head onto my shoulder and feeling his arm flop across my stomach, I reply, "Me, too, Blair." 

I smile and pat the top of his head. Bundling him in my arms, I bury my lips in his hair and kiss him. "Sleep now." 

He hugs me as he drifts off. I close my eyes and listen to his strong and steady heartbeat. That's all I need. It's all I'll ever need. 

* * *

End The Guide by Jim Ellison by C. W. Post: cwmail@peoplepc.com

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